


A Lack of Color

by misterkevo



Series: The Love So Green Collection [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, First Crush, First Love, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 30
Words: 121,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misterkevo/pseuds/misterkevo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his fourth year, Harry falls for fellow Hogwarts student and Triwizard champion, Cedric Diggory. Part 1 in The Love So Green Collection - SLASH, Harry/Cedric. M for some slight sexual content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue + In His Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> The following work is my first every attempt at writing a series. I started it in 2005, when I was barely twenty years old. It was originally going to be a long one-shot but I got carried away so it became what it is today.  
> Also, fair warning, the earlier chapters are all around 1.5k-2k words, but over time they start to grow. Eventually the average length per chapter is at least double that, if not triple. I’ve debated going back and consolidating some of these earlier chapters, but it doesn’t feel right. Apart from minor edits for grammar and whatnot, this fic is mostly as it’s stood since the original posting.  
> Hope you enjoy it!  
> 

  


The Love So Green Collection 

Playlist #1: 

  


a lack of color  


  


**PROLOGUE**  


  


Harry had never liked gray.

His whole life before attending Hogwarts had been a big gray blur, full of abuse and cramped spaces. Gray was the color of Uncle Vernon’s mustache, the sky over Privet Drive , and the uniform he would have been forced to wear had he gone to Stonewall High as planned. It was a symbol of the life Harry always hated, never wanted. The life he couldn’t escape until an owl flew out of the cold gray sky with a letter that changed everything.

The moment Harry saw the letter he knew it heralded something fantastic. It wasn’t the peculiar way it was addressed that got him, though this certainly was strange. The thing that struck Harry was the brilliant green ink the address was written in, and the purple wax of the Hogwarts seal. Even the yellow tint of the parchment was fascinating to him. This was the most beautiful thing that had ever been meant for him.

Which only made him more desperate to discover what was inside after his aunt and uncle had confiscated it.

From that moment on Harry learned that practically everything about the wizarding world was colorful. From the many different hues of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans to the bright red of the Hogwarts Express. It was probably the reason he had been attracted to the Weasley family on his first journey from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The six heads of screaming orange hair were so radically different from the gray and pale blond he was used to.

Even the castle itself vibrated with hundreds of different colors. There were stones in every shade, gleaming silver suits of armor, drapes around the Great Hall with each House’s colors. It was a feast for the eyes and Harry might have found it all overwhelming if he hadn’t been so pleased.

Colors, colors everywhere, and not an end in sight.

Then he met Cedric.

  


a lack of color  


  


**CHAPTER ONE**

“In His Eyes”  


  


Harry first met Cedric in his third year.

Well, not so much met as caught a glimpse of him from a distance. Oliver Wood pointed him out when the Gryffindors were set to play Hufflepuff at Quidditch. Harry immediately saw why the female players on his team giggled whenever Wood mentioned the Hufflepuff Seeker. He was tall, muscular, and extremely good looking.

The thing Harry found himself most drawn to was the fifth year boy’s eyes. They were an intense shade of gray, somehow cool and warm at the same time. It took all of his resolve for Harry to turn away from them.

When game day finally arrived, Harry was actually grateful for the torrential rain. Had it been bright and sunny he might have been able to catch another glimpse of those eyes, and then he would definitely not have been able to catch the Snitch.

Not that he did anyway.

Harry woke up in the hospital wing surrounded by pinched smiles, each one spouting reassurance that they didn’t blame him for their loss. Not that he was listening to a single word of it; they wouldn’t have lost if he’d stayed on his goddamned broom. Every time those dementors came near him the screaming started again and a cold, gray feeling spread through his body that made him curse the color once more. When his closest friends presented him with the shattered pieces of his Nimbus 2000 it was just too much. Harry insisted that he was too tired for visitors and endured an incredibly tight hug from Hermione before everyone shuffled out.

It was dark when Harry woke up again, long enough after his friends had left that his pillow was now dry of the tears he'd sobbed into it. The first thing he noticed was that the remains of his broomstick were still on his bedside table. He mentally thanked Madam Pomfrey for being more understanding than she appeared. The second thing he noticed was the figure sitting next to his bed.

“Who’s there?” Harry slurred, voice still hoarse from muffled sobs.

“Uh, Cedric Diggory,” the figure said, leaning into a beam of moonlight coming through the hospital wing’s large windows. His face looked tired and care-worn. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, the nightmares woke me,” Harry said before he could stop himself.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Er, no, that’s okay.” Harry stared. “What time is it? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Cedric explained. “Which I’ve done, so I should probably go.” He stood, causing the chair to scrape loudly across the floor.

“I heard what you did,” the younger boy said suddenly. “Trying to call off the match. I appreciate it.”

“Well, it’s only fair, isn’t it?” Cedric asked, turning back to face Harry. “It was an accident, what happened.” He chewed on his lower lip, like he was having some kind of internal debate. He took a deep breath before meeting Harry’s eyes with his deep gray ones through the darkness. “When the dementors come near you, what is it that makes you...”

“What? Freak out?” Harry offered, a slight hint of anger in his voice.

“Basically,” the Hufflepuff said unabashedly. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, it’s all right,” Harry told him. “No one’s ever actually asked me that before. Not even Hermione.” Harry thought about that for a second before asking, “Do you really wanna know?”

Cedric sat back down and folded his hands in his lap patiently.

Taking a deep breath, and keeping his eyes locked on Cedric’s, Harry began to describe the thing he’d never told anyone before.

“I hear my parents,” he said slowly. “The night Voldemort murdered them. I can hear my father trying to protect me and my mum, and my mother pleading for him to spare me.”

The older boy held his gaze for another moment before leaning back in his chair so his face was once again in shadow. Harry wished he hadn’t. Cedric’s eyes had given him the strength to tell his story. Now that they were gone, he felt cold again.

“Wow,” Cedric finally mustered in response. “It’s amazing you held on as long as you did.”

“Thanks.” Harry played with his bed sheets for a few minutes before mustering up the courage to ask Cedric, “Why did you want to know what the dementors make me think of? In fact, what made you come up here in the first place?”

Cedric was silent for a moment before muttering awkwardly, “I should probably head back to bed.” His hand wrapped around Harry’s and squeezed. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

“Thanks for coming,” Harry said, at a complete loss for words.

“My pleasure,” Cedric told him. “Get some rest.”

It was so dark and he moved so quietly that Harry wasn’t sure how long it took Cedric to exit the hospital wing. He didn’t wait before smiling at the memory of Cedric’s eyes and his hand around Harry’s.

Maybe gray wasn’t so bad after all.

  



	2. Enchantment Passing Through

  


a lack of color  


  


**CHAPTER TWO**

“Enchantment Passing Through”  


  


For the rest of his stay in the hospital wing, Harry could think of little else except Cedric Diggory. Much to his dismay, the Seeker of the winning team did not pay him a second visit. Instead Harry had to endure several less enjoyable visits, including an embarrassing one from Ginny Weasley and a guilt-inducing one from Oliver Wood. Even Ron and Hermione started to get on his nerves after a while, as they were still arguing about their adversarial pets.

Once he was discharged and returned to his regular schedule, Harry realized how little he had ever seen Cedric on a day to day basis. After the Hufflepuffs’ crushing defeat in their match against Ravenclaw, Harry tried seeking (no pun intended) the older boy out to offer his condolences. Every time he came near him, however, Cedric seemed to mysteriously disappear.

Wood’s exhausting training sessions slowly began to push the memory of Cedric’s concerned gray eyes from Harry’s mind. Learning that Sirius Black, the escaped Azkaban prisoner who was hunting him down, had been a close friend of his parents gave it another, even larger, shove. By the time Christmas break had ended, and Hermione had gotten Harry’s new Firebolt confiscated, Cedric Diggory was the farthest thing from his mind.

Still, every now and then Harry could swear he saw the Hufflepuff boy watching him across the Great Hall. Whenever this would happen, Harry considered approaching him again. But then Cedric would look away, and Harry would go back to his meal, and the moment would pass.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


The events that transpired over the final few months of his third year left Harry more than ready for summer vacation. Sitting in the Weasleys’ backyard, at the table overflowing with delicious food, surrounded by people who loved him, eagerly anticipating the Quidditch World Cup, Harry felt happier than he’d been in a long while. Not as happy as he was when Sirius promised to take his godson away from the Dursleys forever, but close. And just knowing Sirius was out there, that they might someday be reunited, was enough.

Of course, Harry remembered none of these cheerful feelings when Mrs. Weasley woke them far too early the next morning. All he could feel was coldness and anger at no one in particular, that kind of anger that comes with being forced out of bed when all you want to do it sleep.

Harry’s anger evaporated as he trudged the long trek to Stoatshead Hill with the others. As they walked, Mr. Weasley went through a long-winded explanation about how several thousand wizards could congregate in one place without Muggles noticing. No one was listening except Harry. Not even Hermione, who was extremely out of breath from all their walking.

At the top of the hill the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione all spread out and searched for the Portkey they would be taking to the World Cup. After a few minutes Harry heard a new voice, a gruff, male one, shouting from the other side.

“Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we’ve got it!”

As Harry rounded the hill to join the others he saw the man the voice belonged to, a red-faced man with a scratchy brown beard. Standing beside this man was a teenage boy around the twins’ age. He was pretty good looking, actually. He was…

Cedric Diggory.

Mr. Weasley went around making introductions but Harry didn’t take in a word of it. He was too busy being flooded with memories of the last time he was this close to the Hufflepuff boy. Cedric smiled and said hello, looking around at all of them. His eyes appeared to linger on Harry but then Harry was so used to this he might have imagined it.

So used to it, in fact, that he did not welcome the reminder when Amos Diggory started gaping at him.

“Ced’s talked about you, of course,” Mr. Diggory informed him. “Told us all about playing against you last year.…I said to him, I said – Ced, that’ll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will…. ** _You beat Harry Potter_**!”

A dead silence fell over the small group. The only one of them who didn’t seem to realize Mr. Diggory had said something embarrassing was Mr. Diggory himself. Cedric, on the other hand, looked absolutely mortified.

“Harry fell off his broom, Dad,” he muttered fruitlessly. “I told you….it was an accident….”

But his father wasn’t listening. Instead he launched into a boast that somehow claimed Harry would agree Cedric was the better flier. Before Mr. Diggory could get his foot so far stuck in his mouth that there would be no hope of getting it out, Mr. Weasley hastily changed the subject. Harry, who had been looking down at his feet ever since Mr. Diggory mentioned his spectacular blundering of the match against Hufflepuff, glanced up to find Cedric staring at him and biting his lip.

Before Harry could analyze this too much, Mr. Weasley announced that it was time. They each took a position around the Portkey and pressed a finger to it. Someone’s finger pressed against Harry’s and a tiny thrill shot through him when he saw it was Cedric’s. The feeling grew in intensity so rapidly that it knocked Harry off his feet. It wasn’t until he landed that he realized it had actually been the Portkey taking effect.

Suddenly there was a hand in Harry’s face. It was Cedric’s.

“Help you up?” he asked Harry, who was still too stunned from their journey to take the hint. Harry grabbed Cedric’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled back up.

“Thanks,” Harry said.

They were surrounded by people in ludicrous Muggle attire, which only added to the surrealness of what Harry was feeling. While Harry tried not to look at Cedric again, or at least not be too obvious about it, Mr. Weasley engaged in conversation with a man wearing a kilt and a poncho. Soon after, they set off walking again, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory at the front, followed by Fred, George, and Ron, then Ginny and Hermione, with Harry and Cedric bringing up the rear.

“So,” Cedric said. “Are you excited for the match?”

“Definitely,” Harry replied. “It’s the first Quidditch match I’ve ever been to where I didn’t attend classes with any of the players.” They shared a laugh at that. “Sorry about the twins,” Harry said, catching them glaring not-so-subtle daggers back at Cedric. “They’re still pretty bitter about our match last year.”

“Oh, no worries,” Cedric assured him. “If anyone should be sorry it’s me for how much of an ass my father was to you.”

“Shouldn’t he be the one apologizing then?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Cedric answered flatly. “He won’t though. That’s Amos Diggory for you, doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings but his own when he’s boasting about the Celebrated Ced.”

“Not so much a fan of the boasting?” the younger boy mused.

“No, not especially.” Cedric sighed. “I shouldn’t unload on you, though.”

“Why not? You let me do the same last year,” Harry pointed out. “When I told you about the dementors.”

An awkward pause forced its way into the conversation.

“You remember that, eh?”

“Kind of hard to forget,” Harry said. “Unload away.”

“Well, it’s nowhere near what you confided in me,” Cedric granted. “He’s just so demanding, always needing me to be perfect at everything. Quidditch captain, prefect, top OWL marks. Nothing’s ever good enough for him, it’s so…”

“…over-whelming,” Harry finished for him. “To have someone expect so much of you.”

“Something we have in common, I guess,” the older Seeker said with a smile.

“Ced!” Mr. Diggory called from the front of the group. “Come on, son, we’re a ways ahead still.”

“Oh,” Harry said, realizing the others had stopped beside a small stone cottage at the edge of a field of tents. “I guess we’re here then.”

Cedric smiled.

“It was good talking to you again, Harry.”

He extended his hand and this time Harry was ready to take it.

“You too,” Harry told him. Feeling bold, he added, “Maybe this time you won’t avoid me after.”

“Maybe,” the Hufflepuff said, with a wink of those sparkling eyes.

For the next few hours leading up to the match, Harry was surrounded by the green of the Irish and the red of the Bulgarians, but in his mind all he could see was gray.

  



	3. What Is This Feeling?

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER THREE**

“What Is This Feeling?”

  


The World Cup match was every bit exciting as Harry hoped it would be, though much shorter than he expected. It was even exciting enough to replace any thoughts of Cedric and their early morning walk. The effect was only temporary, however. Once there was no longer a live Quidditch match and thousands of screaming fans to distract him, images of the older boy came creeping to the front of his mind once more. While the others held lively debates over their hot chocolate, Harry began to wonder what Cedric thought of the game.

Harry was just slipping into dreams about holding the Quidditch World Cup aloft while an inviting face with gray eyes beamed at him from the crowd when Mr. Weasley woke them shouting. Everything was happening so fast and the scene outside was so horrific that for half a moment Harry thought he was still sleeping, and his dream had turned into a nightmare.

After several frightening encounters and two accusations of invoking Lord Voldemort’s Mark, Harry and the others returned to their tents. While everyone else quickly fell back asleep, Harry found his mind was too buzzing with questions, and was still awake when Mr. Weasley told them it was time to go a few hours later.

They took another Portkey back to Stoatshead Hill in the form of a rubber tire. Much to Harry’s confusion and disappointment, the Diggorys did not accompany them this time. Their small group trudged back through Ottery St. Catchpole in silence, all too tired to form coherent words. Harry kept his head down as they walked, focusing on the plodding sound of his own footsteps to block out the annoying thoughts that had plagued him since the night before.

Learning upon their arrival that Sirius still hadn’t responded to his letter agitated Harry even further. He hoped telling Ron and Hermione about his scar hurting the previous Saturday would alleviate some of the pressure in his head, but they only succeeded in raising more questions. Harry didn’t want to think about questions. He didn’t want to think about anything.

Despite his exhaustion, he jumped at the chance to play Quidditch with Ron and his brothers. Quidditch was the one thing that made the rest of the world melt away for Harry, which was exactly what he needed at the moment. They played for over an hour, until Hermione caught Ron falling asleep on his broom and insisted they all get some rest before continuing.

As Harry lay on his bed waiting for sleep to come, he replayed the events of the previous night in his head.

Plunging through the darkened wood next to their campsite reminded Harry of Alice and her journey through Wonderland. When he was younger he saw part of the animated version on television, until Uncle Vernon noticed he was in the room and sent him to bed. What he did get to see fascinated him; a talking rabbit, people growing huge and then shrinking to half their sizes, disappearing cats. It didn’t seem like much after all of his years at Hogwarts, but the memory stuck with him. Like Alice , they had encountered many strange and unexpected characters as they rushed through the forest. Many, but not the one Harry had been hoping for. Even while Mr. Diggory was accusing him of summoning the Dark Mark, all Harry could think of was what may have become of the man’s son.

The questions that had pounded through Harry’s mind earlier came back in full force. Not the ones about who could have summoned the Dark Mark, or why Sirius hadn’t responded to his letter yet. The questions that came now were the ones asking why he cared so damn much about the fate of Cedric Diggory. He had seen a lot of people he knew at the World Cup, including several fellow Gryffindors. Of course he hoped they all got out okay, how could he not? Yet none of them were the one he’d been hoping to come across as they stumbled through the woods. None of them were the one with the handsome features and the friendly smile and those soulful gray eyes.

 _What is **wrong** with me?_ Harry cried silently.

 _Like you don’t already know,_ a voice answered harshly.

Harry closed his eyes tightly against the glowing orange of Ron’s room until all he could see was black. He clamped down on his thoughts so tightly it hurt but he didn’t stop fighting. His mind fought back with a vengeance, throwing his own memories back in his face.

The first time he saw Cedric, noticed how his eyes sparkled when he smiled. The way it made Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

_No._

Watching Cedric ever since their encounter in the hospital wing, across the Great Hall, in the corridors. The joy Harry felt when he saw the older boy yesterday morning.

_No!_

The thrill that went through him every time they touched. Cedric’s hand gripping his as he helped Harry to his feet, touching his as they held on to the Portkey, squeezing Harry’s tenderly during their nighttime visit. The smile it elicited from the young Gryffindor.

_I AM NOT GAY!_

The thought exploded in his head, so loudly he was surprised he hadn't shouted it out loud.

Every day of his life spent on Privet Drive, in one form or another, Harry had been accused of being a homosexual. Either it was Dudley and his cohorts shouting “Harry the fairy!” or Uncle Vernon grumbling about “that lousy queer.” It was one of the many things Vernon was always threatening to beat out of his nephew. In his eyes, the only thing worse than being gay was being a wizard.

 _And he was wrong about that, wasn’t he?_ Harry reminded himself.

For all the Dursleys’ ranting and wailing about how horrible magic was, it had brought Harry happiness for the first time in his life. If they could be wrong about that, maybe they were wrong about this, too.

Maybe Harry was gay.

Instead of relieving the pressure in Harry’s mind, this revelation merely increased it. What would his friends say? What would Sirius say? And what about Cedric? Was it possible he felt the same way about Harry as Harry felt about him? And what if he did? Was dating even allowed between male students at Hogwarts?

Harry definitely felt like Alice. And he had just fallen through the rabbit-hole.

  



	4. Going Through the Motions

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER FOUR**

“Going Through the Motions”

  


“Harry!”

Harry blinked.

“Yes?” he said.

“You’ve been just sitting there for about two minutes,” Ron informed him. “We’ve got to get a move on, or Mum’s going to have a fit.”

“Oh,” said Harry. “Right.”

Harry had spent much of the last few days like this: in his own head. Ever since he realized he might be … that thing where he liked other boys, he had been doing a lot of reflecting.

The first question Harry asked himself was whether he fancied any boys other than Cedric. Because if he didn’t then maybe the whole thing was just a fluke. He realized he didn’t find all boys attractive; like Ron, for example. Mrs. Weasley’s suggestion to take a picture of Ron going naked in protest of his dress robes made Harry laugh, but it certainly wasn’t appealing. Still, there was no denying that part of the joy he felt at winning the Quidditch Cup last year was attributed to the prolonged hug Oliver Wood gave him.

The second question Harry asked himself was whether or not he was attracted to girls as well. He supposed that he was. The butterflies he experienced when he first laid eyes on Cho Chang had been real. But the light flutter of butterflies he felt with her was nothing compared to the intense flapping like a Snitch that accompanied even thinking the name “Cedric”.

This was something Harry had fought very hard not to do over the past several days. Every time he did, the feeling made him grin a rather goofy grin that inspired Hermione to ask what he was smiling about. As he had decided not to tell her or Ron about his budding sexual orientation, for the time being at least, Harry would tell her he was just looking forward to the new Quidditch season and change the subject. Which wasn’t a total lie; he was definitely looking forward to playing Cedric again this year.

Seeing Amos Diggory’s head in the Weasleys’ fire that morning certainly hadn’t helped with the not thinking about Cedric. Suddenly Harry found himself wondering if he’d see the older boy on the Hogwarts Express. It was possible. Even if they didn’t happen to pass each other while getting on the train, Cedric did have to patrol the corridors as part of his prefect duties. What would he say if their paths did happen to cross?

 _Nothing, you fool,_ a patronizing voice told him. _He probably doesn’t even know you exist._

And this was why Harry had tried to prevent himself from thinking about Cedric. After the initial smiley feeling wore off, Harry would harshly remind himself that not only was Cedric probably straight, but that even if he weren’t he could have anyone in the whole school. Even Filch would probably kick Mrs. Norris out of bed for him. Why would he ever want Harry? Sure, there was the whole fame thing, but scratch the surface and he was pretty ordinary; mediocre grades, few friends, pretty good at Quidditch. Not much else, really.

Cedric was the truly exceptional one. He was a prefect, Quidditch captain, excellent student, and extremely popular. He was nice to Harry, yeah. But would he ever want Harry to be his boyfriend?

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


September 1st passed quickly, though not without revealing one of the many mysteries that had been surrounding Harry’s life for the past few weeks. Finally, Percy’s thinly-veiled comments, Ludo Bagman’s excitement, Malfoy’s snide remarks on the Hogwarts Express, they all made sense.

The Triwizard Tournament.

Along with the appointment of Mad-Eye Moody, it was most talked about subject the first few days of term. Maybe it was because the arrival of the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang was so far off, or because other matters like Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Skrewts had a more immediate effect on them, but most students quickly forgot about the impending competition.

Finally, late in October, Harry, Ron, and Hermione came into the entrance hall after Care of Magical Creatures to find a sign posted at the bottom of the marble staircase about the tournament and the other schools’ arrival. The most exciting part of the notice for Harry was the indication that they would miss a large part of their Potions lesson.

“Only a week away!” someone cried. Harry looked around and saw Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff reading the sign eagerly. His eyes were gleaming with excitement. “I wonder if Cedric knows! Think I’ll go and tell him….”

“Cedric?” Ron wondered.

“Diggory,” Harry responded immediately, watching Ernie sprint down the corridor. “He must be entering the tournament.”

“That idiot, Hogwarts champion?” Ron laughed.

“He’s not an idiot,” Hermione scolded him, glancing at Harry. “You just don’t like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch, even though he tried to forfeit the match. I’ve heard he’s a really good student – **_and_** he’s a prefect.”

“You just like him because he’s **_handsome_** ,” Ron spat.

“That’s not true,” Hermione said quickly. “And excuse me, I don’t like people just because they’re handsome.”

“Of course not,” Harry interjected before Ron could throw out a come-back. “She’s friends with you, isn’t she?”

Ron’s ears turned pink, and he seethed the rest of the way to the Great Hall.

Harry knew he should have stayed out of their argument, but he couldn’t help it. And after the way Ron put Cedric down, he didn’t feel the least bit sorry.

Every moment of the school year so far not spent worrying about Sirius, feigning interest in S.P.E.W., or nursing a concussion from fighting off the Imperius Curse was consumed by an unconscious desire to watch Cedric Diggory. Whether it was across the Great Hall at mealtimes or in the corridors between classes, Harry’s eyes had become as adept at finding the Hufflepuff prefect as though he was an overlarge Snitch. He had felt an immense stab of jealousy that he couldn’t account for when Ernie said he was going to tell Cedric about the new sign in the entrance hall.

If there was ever a point when Harry could deny his feelings for Cedric, at least to himself, he was definitely beyond it now.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


The first real slip Harry made concerning his feelings came the night before Halloween. It was after the foreign visitors had already arrived with a flourish, all flying horses and ghostly ships. Nearly half an hour into the Welcoming Feast, Ron was insisting that one of the girls from Beauxbatons Academy was a veela.

“I’m telling you, that’s not a normal girl!” Ron said, shifting around obviously in his seat to get a better look at her. “They don’t make them like that at Hogwarts!”

“They make them okay at Hogwarts,” Harry replied quietly, eyes fixed on the adjacent Hufflepuff table.

Suddenly Hermione started to cough loudly, like she was choking. Harry and Ron both turned their stares away from their different distractions to look at her. She was looking pointedly at Harry. The dark-haired boy froze. Had she seen where he was looking? Did she know? Would she say something, here, in the middle of the Great Hall?

Ron made to pat her on the back, to keep her from choking, but she waved his hand away.

“I’m fine,” Hermione assured him. “I just noticed the new arrivals.”

She pointed up at the staff table, where Ludo Bagman and Mr. Crouch had just turned up. Harry breathed easily again.

For the rest of the meal Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that she was watching him. Just in case, he restrained himself from checking out Cedric anymore. Well, for that night, anyway.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


Like the rest of the school, Harry, Ron, and Hermione woke much earlier the next day than they normally would on the weekend. When they reached the entrance hall on the way to breakfast they found many students had the same idea they did. More than two dozen people were gathered around the Goblet of Fire watching others put their names in.

It truly was lovely, the Goblet of Fire. The goblet itself was entirely unremarkable, which only seemed to add to its mystique. And the flames dancing inside it, casting their eerie blue glow over the entrance hall, were magnificent. Everything that light touched took on a surreal yet beautiful quality. Even the Weasley twins with their matching white beards.

“I told them the Aging Potion wouldn’t work,” Hermione said to Harry and Ron as they entered the festively decorated Great Hall. They made their way over to where Dean and Seamus were sitting, discussing possible entrants in the Tournament.

“We can’t have a Slytherin champion!” Harry said with disdain when Dean told them Warrington of Slytherin may have entered.

“And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory,” Seamus said contemptuously. “But I wouldn’t have thought he’d have wanted to risk his good looks.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, eh?” Harry asked sharply. “What’d Cedric ever do to you?”

Seamus was on the verge of answering when Hermione said suddenly, “Listen!”

The sound of cheers floated in from the entrance hall. Moments later, Angelina Johnson entered the Great Hall, smiling sheepishly. She came over, sat down, and told them she just entered her name in the running.

“I really hope you get it, Angelina!” Hermione told her. The boys all smiled nodded enthusiastically.

“Thanks, Hermione,” Angelina said, still grinning.

“Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory,” Seamus said.

“What is your problem?” Harry shouted. “Just lay off him already!”

Harry got up from his seat and stormed out of the Great Hall. He sat on the floor of the entrance hall, back to the wall in the entrance, and stared into the goblet’s flames.

It was stupid for him to explode on Seamus like that, and he knew it. Could he have made it more obvious that he liked Cedric? Harry couldn’t help it, though. Seamus was always saying things behind people’s backs like that. The least deserving person of that kind of treatment was definitely Cedric.

Was he right, though? Was Cedric entering in the Tournament? Ernie Macmillan seemed to think so; his first thought on seeing news about the Tournament was to let Cedric know. So what if he did enter? Cedric was of age, and certainly capable. Just because champions died in the past….

A while later, Ron and Hermione exited the Great Hall and walked up to him. Hermione sat down on his left while Ron leaned against the wall to his right. To their credit, neither mentioned his minor blow out.

“You missed breakfast,” Hermione informed him.

“I wasn’t hungry,” Harry insisted.

After a minute, Ron asked, “So, what’re we going to do today?”

“We should visit Hagrid,” Harry answered. “We haven’t gone down to see him once since we’ve been back.”

“Okay,” Hermione said. Then her eyes widened with excitement. “I’ve just realized – I haven’t asked Hagrid to join S.P.E.W. yet!” She jumped up and brushed off her robes. “Wait right here and I’ll go get the badges.”

“What is it with her?” Ron said as he helped Harry up off the floor.

“I’ve asked myself that for three years now,” Harry told him. But Ron wasn’t listening anymore. He had just taken notice of the Beauxbatons students who had come into the entrance hall, the possible veela-girl among them. Ron’s face was slack and his eyes were round and glassy.

 _Merlin, I hope my face doesn’t get like that when I’m looking at Cedric,_ Harry thought to himself.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


All anyone could think of during the feast that evening was its promised conclusion. Every snippet of conversation Harry heard was either a speculation as to who would be chosen, or theories about what the three tasks would be. By the time Dumbledore finally stood at the end of the meal, the air was practically humming with excitement. He informed everyone that the goblet would soon be making its decision, and gave instructions on what to do should your name be chosen.

Every head in the Great Hall was turned toward the Goblet of Fire.

After a long and suspenseful quiet, the flames inside the goblet turned red, like they had when students were putting their names in. Sparks flew wildly from the goblet. A tongue of flame shot out, ejecting a slightly charred slip of parchment. Dumbledore caught the paper easily and read it by the light of the goblet’s flames, now returned to their usual blue color.

“The champion for Durmstrang,” he read so the entire Hall could hear, “will be Viktor Krum.”

Everyone in the Hall cheered, though none so loudly as Karkaroff. Krum got up from the Slytherin table and headed toward the chamber Dumbledore indicated beyond the staff table. His expression was just as void of emotion as ever.

The flames turned red again seconds after the cheering died down. The school this time was Beauxbatons. The champion was Fleur Delacour who, as it turned out, was the same girl Ron had been gawking at for the past twenty-four hours.

As soon as the girl had entered the side chamber, a hush fell over the Great Hall. Everyone knew what was next: the Hogwarts champion. For the third time that evening, the flames in the Goblet of Fire turned red and discharged sparks. Another piece of parchment fluttered out into Dumbledore’s waiting hand. All around the Great Hall friends were clutching one another’s hand and holding their breath.

“The Hogwarts champion,” Dumbledore announced, “is Cedric Diggory!”

Later Harry would wonder if it had been the enchantments placed on it that kept the roof attached to the Great Hall, because in any other establishment the tumultuous applause coming from the Hufflepuff table at that moment would have blown it clear off. Every member of the Hufflepuff house was going berserk. Cedric himself was grinning broadly as he made his way toward the front of the Hall in the aisle between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables. It was taking longer than it usually would as every other person he passed was either grabbing him for a hug or a handshake in congratulations. Only a few Gryffindors were among them, including Harry, who saw this as a wonderful opportunity to touch Cedric without raising any eyebrows.

When Cedric was near him and had a free appendage, Harry grabbed the boy’s hand. Cedric turned around to see whose hand he was shaking. The newly designated champion beamed and pulled Harry into a quick but fierce hug before moving on. The act left Harry with his mind in a fog and a smile on his face.

Once the cheering finally ended, which took several minutes, Dumbledore began to speak again. Harry wasn’t taking in a word of it. He was too busy trying to memorize what it felt like to have Cedric’s arm around him. If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed the Goblet of Fire suddenly turn red again. He also would have seen another flame shoot out and discharge a fourth slip of parchment. It wasn’t until Harry heard his name being called that he even looked up at all.

Every head in the Great Hall was turned toward him.

“What’s going on?” he asked Hermione, who stared at him pale-faced.

“Your name just came out of the Goblet of Fire,” she whispered.

Harry could actually feel all of the color drain from his face, and said the first thought that came to his mind.

“Oh, shi—”

  



	5. Pandemonium

  


a lack of color  


  


**CHAPTER FIVE**

“Pandemonium”  


  


“—it.”

“Harry, you have to go up there,” Hermione whispered urgently.

“Um, no, thanks!” Harry whispered back.

“You can’t just sit here,” she said, “he called your name!”

“But I didn’t put it in,” Harry argued. “You have to know that.”

Neither Hermione nor Ron answered him.

“Harry Potter!” Dumbledore called. “Harry! Up here, if you please!”

The whispers around the Great Hall increased in volume until they could hardly be called whispers any longer. All eyes were on Harry, and each face wore an expression of skepticism or astonishment. Contempt was the most popular expression at the Hufflepuff table.

“You’re only making it worse by sitting here,” Hermione scolded. “Just go!”

Hermione gave Harry a small push, which propelled him to his feet. He stumbled slightly, tripping over himself, then recovered and made his way up the same aisle Cedric walked not ten minutes earlier. Harry’s reception was very different from Cedric’s. There were no hugs or handshakes for him; only angry glares and one sour-faced Hufflepuff boy who stuck a leg out to trip Harry.

“He’s a cheat!” someone shouted over the rising chatter.

“He isn’t even seventeen yet!” another person jeered.

Finally Harry came to where Dumbledore was standing. Something about the way that the headmaster was looking at him made Harry’s insides boil with embarrassment.

“Well … through the door, Harry,” Dumbledore said simply.

A thought suddenly occurred to Harry: Cedric was on the other side of that door. What would he say? Would he be angry with Harry when he found out the younger boy had also been selected as champion? Fear rooted Harry to the spot.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said again. “The door.”

Harry stared at the headmaster imploringly. Didn’t he understand what going through that door could mean? Didn’t he understand that all Harry wanted was to sit back down with his friends and pretend none of this ever happened? Dumbledore stared at him. As much as Harry was afraid of Cedric’s reaction to all of this, not to mention the rest of the school, he was even more afraid to incur the anger of the only wizard Lord Voldemort ever feared.

Harry went through the side door, and into the other chamber.

The Triwizard champions were standing around the antechamber’s fireplace. Cedric was facing the fire with his hands behind his back. He chewed his lip and stared into the flames, deep in thought. Harry’s heart gave jolt.

The first one to notice the new presence in the chamber was Fleur Delacour. She tossed her flowing silvery hair and put her hands on her hips.

“What ees it?” she asked. “Do zey want us back in ze Hall?”

The two boys looked around to find out who Fleur was talking to. Cedric’s face lit up when he saw Harry and he smiled warmly. Harry tried to smile back but couldn’t quite make the muscles in his face work. He tried to tell them what happened back in the Great Hall but his vocal chords had seized up. All that came out was a short squeak. Cedric’s face scrunched in confusion.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” he asked.

Before Harry could try again to speak the door he had come through burst open and Ludo Bagman entered. He grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him closer to the other champions.

“Extraordinary!” Bagman cried, his grip on Harry’s arm tightening painfully. “Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen … lady. May I introduce – incredible though it may seem – the **_fourth_** Triwizard champion?”

Each of the champions reacted differently. Cedric’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Viktor Krum glared Harry shrewdly, his features clouding over with mistrust. Fleur Delacour thought the whole thing was a joke.

“Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman,” she smiled.

“Joke?” Bagman repeated, taken aback. “No, no, not at all! Harry’s name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!”

All three champions frowned.

“But evidently zair ‘as been a mistake,” Fleur said, glaring daggers at Harry. “’E cannot compete. ‘E is too young.”

“Well … it is amazing,” Bagman said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name’s come out of the goblet … I mean, I don’t think there can be any ducking out at this stage....”

“You can’t be serious!” Cedric cried. “Are you really considering letting him compete? That’s—”

Exactly what Cedric had to say about the situation was abruptly cut off when the door slammed open. In swept Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. Harry caught a brief glimpse of the Great Hall outside before McGonagall closed the door again. Hundreds of students were talking and laughing as they filed out of the Hall and went up to bed. Harry would be with them right now, discussing the Goblet’s choice of champions, had he not been one of them.

 _Instead I’m here,_ Harry thought sullenly. _Surrounded by nearly a dozen angry witches and wizards, all of whom are staring at me. That is, all except Cedric._

This was true; Cedric, who looked just as outraged as anyone else in the room, was still glowering at Bagman. Wondering what the older boy could possibly be thinking at that moment made Harry feel worse than anything anyone else could say about him.

“Madame Maxime!” said Fleur to her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!”

 _‘Little boy?’_ Harry thought. _Okay, that might give whatever Cedric’s thinking a run for its gold…._

Harry remained silent while the adults argued over what to do about this unexpected development, speaking only when Dumbledore addressed him directly. Even when the conversation took a bizarre turn with Moody’s suggestion that Harry was entered to try and kill him, Harry said nothing. When Dumbledore finally dismissed them all for the evening he was greatly relieved. Harry glanced surreptitiously at Cedric before they left the chamber. He looked furious.

The Great Hall was empty, and almost completely dark except for the candlelight coming from the carved pumpkins. The other champions and their headmasters had already departed. Cedric was stomping quickly toward the exit, his features twisted darkly in the Hall’s dim light.

“Cedric, wait!” Harry called out desperately. “I’m sorry!”

Cedric stopped so suddenly that Harry almost ran right into him. The Hufflepuff turned and looked at the Gryffindor with a befuddled expression on his face.

“Why are **_you_** sorry?” he asked.

“Well,” Harry said, not sure how to respond. He started saying whatever came to mind, very jumbled and very fast. “My name came out of the Goblet of Fire. And now I’m going to have to compete against you, which I’m really, really sorry about, because **_you_** should be the only Hogwarts champion. I mean, your name came out of the goblet first right? And I don’t even **_want_** to compete, I would take myself out of the running if I could, but I totally understand that you’re mad at me. I’d probably be mad at me too. I am mad at me. Why are you smiling?”

“Because you’re babbling like a crazy person, and smiling is what you do to keep crazy people calm,” Cedric grinned.

“Aren’t you angry?” the younger boy asked uncertainly.

“Yes, I’m angry, but not with you,” Cedric assured him, gripping Harry by the shoulders. Harry’s breath hitched. “I’m angry with **_them_**. Karkaroff and Maxime for accusing you of lying about putting your name in—”

“So you believe me?” Harry asked.

“Of course I believe you,” Cedric replied in a way that caused a tingly warm feeling to spread through Harry’s chest. “And I’m angry with Bagman and Crouch for forcing you to do this. It’s ridiculous. You’re too young.”

“What, you think I can’t do it?” Harry said, voice bristling with anger.

“That’s not what I meant,” Cedric said, concern flickering over his face like the soft candlelight in which they stood. “I’m just … worried about you.”

The two newly appointed champions stood together in the dimly lit Hall, Cedric’s hands on Harry’s shoulders and his eyes on Harry’s face. The longer they stood there the more self-conscious Harry felt. Judging by the knot in his stomach Harry supposed they had been standing there for hours before he finally spoke.

“I’ve never been in the Great Hall this late,” he stammered, glancing around at the glowing pumpkins. “It’s dark.”

 _“It’s dark”?_ he mentally chastised himself. _Moron._

“Yeah,” Cedric agreed, not seeming to notice the awkwardness of the situation. His eyes shifted quickly to Harry’s lips then back to his eyes again. Harry gulped.

“Are you going to…?” He couldn’t even get the words out.

Cedric smiled. He bent forward and Harry could have sworn he felt his heart stop beating. Bypassing the younger boy’s lips, Cedric instead leaned close to Harry’s ear and whispered, “Don’t tempt me.”

With that, Cedric straightened back up. Still smiling, he winked like he had at the Quidditch World Cup, and strode silently out of the Great Hall.

  



	6. No Matter What

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER SIX**

“No Matter What”

  


The corridors in Hogwarts were virtually deserted as Harry made his way up to the Gryffindor dormitory. His encounter in the Great Hall with Cedric Diggory had left him deeply confused and, incongruously, very excited. His mind buzzed with questions. What did that mean, “don’t tempt me”? Had he been doing anything that could be construed as tempting? Harry certainly didn’t think so. All he’d said was, “Are you going to –” Did Cedric know what Harry had been planning to say? It was possible, but that sentence could have ended in any number of ways. Maybe he was asking if Cedric was going to take his hands off of Harry’s shoulders. Not that he would have asked that, ever, but it was an option.

By the time he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry was in no mood for a party. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much of a choice. What looked to be every resident of Gryffindor was crammed into the common room, all whistling, applauding, and cheering.

“You should’ve told us you’d entered!” Fred cried.

“How did you do it without getting a beard?” George demanded. “Brilliant!”

“I didn’t enter,” Harry shouted over the din. “I don’t know how my name—”

“Oh if it couldn’t be me, at least it’s a Gryffindor—” said Angelina, appearing out of nowhere, before being cut off by Katie Bell.

“You’ll be able to pay back Diggory for that last Quidditch match, Harry!” Katie shrieked.

Harry scowled. The last thing he wasn’t to do was “pay back Diggory” and for the first time it occurred to Harry how obnoxious Katie could be.

It quickly became apparent to Harry that the party could have gone on just fine had he not been there. No one was paying any real attention to him. All anyone cared about was the idea that Harry Potter had rebelliously broken all the rules to enter the Triwizard Tournament and succeeded, consequence-free. How did you do it, Harry? How did you do it? How, how, how? For all the times he got asked, people sure weren’t listening to his answer.

 _Cedric listened,_ a quiet, happy voice whispered in his head. _Cedric believes me_.

Thinking about Cedric only made Harry more desperate to escape the chaotic common room. He took some time to search for Ron and Hermione, the only two people he had been looking forward to seeing upon his arrival, but they were nowhere to be found. After insisting several times that he needed to get some rest, he bolted up to his room as quickly as his feet would carry him.

Harry breathed a huge sigh of relief when he saw that Ron was still awake, lying fully dressed on his bed.

“Where the hell have you **_been_**?” Harry asked, tugging at the Gryffindor banner knotted around his throat. “I was looking all over for you and Hermione both. Did she go up to bed already?”

“I’m surprised you had time to look for us little people with your party going on,” Ron muttered darkly. He sat up against his headboard and glared at the Hogwarts champion. “So how did you do it, anyway?”

“Wha…what do you mean?” Harry said. “I told you already, I didn’t do anything. I don’t know how my name got in that goblet.”

“Whatever, Harry,” the angry red-head replied. “I figured you’d at least want to tell **_me_** the truth, being your best friend and all.”

“I **_do_** want to tell my best friend,” Harry said, quickly losing his calm. “If you see him around, could you tell him I’m looking for him?”

Ron leapt to his feet.

“Maybe you’d just rather tell Cedric. Is that it?”

The bottom fell out of Harry’s stomach and he swallowed hard.

“What are you talking about?” Harry demanded

“I’m not completely daft, you know,” Ron said.

“Well, you’re doing a rather good impression, then,” Harry snapped.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” Ron continued. “The way you’re always defending him, staring at him? He’s probably the reason you entered the bloody competition!”

“I didn’t enter the competition!” Harry shouted.

“Whatever,” Ron repeated, getting back in bed and yanking the hangings around it closed. “Queer.”

Without another word, Ron disappeared behind the dark red curtains.

Harry sat down on his bed in a state of shock. Of all the people in Hogwarts not to believe him, he never would have imagined Ron to even be in the running. And then for Ron to actually call him.... A hard lump formed in Harry’s throat and he ignored it. He refused to cry while Ron might still be awake and listening. He couldn’t give him the satisfaction. If Malfoy had never broken Harry, Ron certainly wouldn’t. Of course, Malfoy was never the best friend who turned on Harry when he needed him the most.

The next morning Harry woke up in the same clothes he was wearing the night before, his glasses still on and slightly crooked. He hadn’t even managed to crawl under his covers. Readjusting his glasses, Harry saw that Hermione was sitting at the foot of his bed gazing out the nearby window.

“’mione?” Harry ventured sleepily.

Hermione looked over at Harry, startled. She gave the boy a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, which were slightly glassy.

“Good morning, Harry,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

“Erm, fine,” he responded, sitting up. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought you might be hungry,” Hermione said, holding up a stack of toast wrapped in a napkin. “You missed breakfast.”

“Thanks,” Harry said.

He took the toast she offered and munched on a piece. It was rough and scratchy on his throat. He finished and began forcing down a second piece when Hermione spoke.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Harry said innocently. Hermione glared at him. So Harry told her everything that happened in the side chamber the night before. He stopped when he got to the part where Dumbledore dismissed him and Cedric. “So, do you believe me?”

“Of course,” Hermione said, affronted. “I believed you when you told us last night.”

“Seems you’re to only one,” Harry said bitterly. Then added, “Well, you and Cedric.”

“Cedric?” Hermione asked lightly.

Harry wished desperately that he knew some kind of spell to keep himself from blushing and answered, “Yeah. He told me last night. After we left the chamber together.”

“Oh.” Hermione stared down at her hands. “Harry, you know you can talk to me, don’t you?”

“What do you mean?” Harry said, going for confused.

“Harry,” she said, looking into the boy’s eyes. “I know.”

Realizing she wouldn’t buy his innocent act any longer, Harry simply asked, “How?”

“A number of reasons,” she said. “I’m one of your best friends, and I’d like to think I know you pretty well by now. I’m a girl, and girls have intuition about these sorts of things. Plus you aren’t nearly as covert as you think you are.” She hesitated. “And a few things Ron said this morning. If I hadn't figured it out before then…”

“He’s saying things?”

Harry couldn’t help feeling hurt. Throwing accusations around when it was just the two of them was one thing, but to say things behind his back.

“He only said them to me,” she assured him.

“And what did you say?”

“I told him he’ll keep his mouth shut if he knows what’s good for him,” Hermione replied. She placed her hand on Harry’s. “He will. And he’ll come around, too. He’s just confused. And probably jealous.”

“Oh, please!” Harry cried. “I’d swap with him any day. He’s not the one who was entered in a death-defying competition against his will! Or had his best friend turn his back on him! He’s not the one who has feelings for—”

Harry stopped short. Could he bring himself to say it out loud to another person? He’d done it before, by himself, when the dorm was quiet and empty. Just to test it out, to make sure the universe didn’t implode or anything. So far it had not. Harry stared out the same window Hermione had been before. Outside, the early November sky was a cold, pale gray. Just like Cedric’s eyes.

“I have feelings for Cedric Diggory,” Harry said suddenly.

He waited for harsh words, like the ones Ron had thrown at him. But they didn’t come. Instead, Hermione merely tightened her grip on his hand. When Harry finally looked at her, she was still smiling.

“Kind of figured that out already,” Hermione joked. “But I’m glad you told me yourself.” Then she threw her arms around Harry, taking the boy by surprise. “You know that I love you, right? No matter what?”

Normally, such an admission would have made Harry extremely uncomfortable. This time, hearing the warmth and love and **_acceptance_** in his friend’s voice, it only made him feel extremely grateful.

“No matter what,” he agreed. “Thanks, Hermione.”

  



	7. Woe is Me

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER SEVEN**

“Woe is Me”

  


Once their bonding moment was over, Hermione insisted that Harry write to Sirius about what had happened. Despite Harry’s arguing that it would only make his godfather more agitated, she dragged him up to the Owlery. She presented him with some parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink, then went to look out one of the room’s many windows so Harry could write in peace.

 _Now, what to say?_ Harry wondered.

Trying to sound as casual as possible, Harry simply wrote the truth; the Triwizard Tournament was being held at Hogwarts and, somehow, he had, somehow, been chosen as the fourth champion. He paused and stared blankly at the sentence he had just written.

  


_The other Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff._

  


Where in Merlin’s name did that come from? Harry’s obsession with Cedric must have been reaching new heights if he was even able to work the boy into a letter to his godfather. For a moment, Harry considered writing something to Sirius about his strange new feelings for the older student. What would his reaction be? Would he be happy, or concerned? Would he be disgusted? Harry dipped his quill into the ink bottle, then wrote:

  


_Hope you’re okay, and Buckbeak –Harry_

  


Maybe he wasn’t ready to come out to Sirius yet. It was probably best to only give someone one major piece of news at a time, and the Tournament was definitely the more urgent of the two. Besides, he had told Hermione. That was enough for one day.

After sending his letter off with one of the school owls, and being viciously snubbed by Hedwig, Harry decided to fill Hermione in on his encounter with Cedric on their way down to lunch.

“‘Don’t tempt me’?” Hermione repeated once his story was finished. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That’s exactly what I’d like to know!” Harry said.

“Well,” Hermione said, smiling slightly, “maybe he likes you, too!”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry scoffed. “He was probably just messing with me. I guess I’ll have to get used to that, now that more than half the school hates me.”

“Nobody hates you,” Hermione said hastily, “and don’t change the subject. Why is it so hard to believe that Cedric might like you?”

Harry shrugged, unsure how to respond without looking completely pathetic. “He’s **_Cedric_** , y’know?” he said. “He’s handsome, and popular, and perfect, and I’m…”

“Harry Potter,” Hermione filled in.

Like it meant something.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the famous Harry Potter, got the scar to prove it and everything,” he said dismissively. “Except it’s complete dragonshit. I’m not handsome, or popular, and I’m certainly not perfect.”

“You are too handsome, and popular,” Hermione insisted. “And nobody can be perfect, Harry. Believe me, I’ve tried. Or do you forget my exhausting experience with the Time Turner?”

“Like I could forget,” Harry said. “I just don’t know what he could possibly see in me.”

“Then you’re not looking hard enough,” Hermione informed him. She paused as they reached the entrance to the Great Hall. “You should talk to him.”

“You’d better not be talking about Ron again,” Harry responded immediately, “because after what he said to me—”

“I don’t mean Ron,” Hermione said. “I mean Cedric.”

Harry stared blankly.

“Why would I do that?”

“How else are you going to find out what he meant?” Hermione asked. “It’s worth a try, anyway. Now come on, you’ve barely eaten all day.”

Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him into the Hall. By an unspoken agreement, all conversation about Cedric Diggory and his mysterious ways was put on hold.

For a second, Harry thought everyone in the Hall was staring because they knew what he and Hermione had just been talking about. Then he remembered the Tournament and that all of the stares fixed on him were either in anger or admiration. All were unwelcome. He shuffled over to the Gryffindor table behind Hermione, refusing to as much as glance up, not wanting to see everyone talking about him. Hard as he tried, he was unable to stop himself from looking over at the Hufflepuff table when they were finally sitting.

Cedric was looking right back at him. The Hufflepuff boy smiled at Harry and went back to eating his soup. A soft pink blush was crawling from his neck upward.

Suddenly Harry found himself to be quite hungry, and it didn’t bother him one bit that Ron wasn’t sitting next to him for the first time since he could remember.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


Never, in his entire experience at Hogwarts, had Harry been as miserable as he was over the next few days. He had come close a few times, like when he had lost Gryffindor nearly all its house points in his first year and when the majority of the school thought he was attacking Muggle-born students in his second. But then he had both Hermione **_and_** Ron beside him. And at least when Hermione was petrified by the creature from the Chamber of Secrets, Harry had the comfort of knowing she didn't stop speaking to him by choice. The fact that Ron was deliberately ignoring him made the situation even worse.

Not that it needed any help. So far every house in Hogwarts except his own had suddenly turned on Harry. And even the support he received from the Gryffindors was not exactly helpful. Harry had reminded both of the Creevey brothers more times than he could count that he was **_one_** of the Hogwarts champions, and not **_the_** Hogwarts champion. Harry’s anxiety was getting so bad that he couldn’t even perform a Summoning Charm for Professor Flitwick’s class. The only student to do worse than him was Neville, and just barely at that.

“It’s not that difficult, Harry,” Hermione said in a reassuring tone that would have been much more reassuring had she not been instantly successful at the charm. “You just weren’t concentrating properly—”

“Wonder why that was,” Harry muttered as Cedric walked past surrounded by a gaggle of fangirls. Hermione followed his gaze and smiled sympathetically.

“Have you tried talking to him?” she asked.

“I’ve wanted to,” Harry said. “But you’ve seen him. He’s constantly surrounded by, well, **_them_**. I actually caught a bunch of sixth-year girls begging him to sign their bags. It’s enough to make you—”

“—jealous?” Hermione supplied.

“Maybe,” Harry replied honestly. “I’ll figure something out. We have bigger concerns right now. Double Potions this afternoon.”

“Now **_there’s_** something be cheerful about,” Hermione said sarcastically.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


After a fairly uneventful lunch where only four students shouted anything rude at Harry, a record low since his name came out of the goblet, he and Hermione made their way down to Snape’s dungeon. Waiting outside was a large group of Slytherins, each wearing badges with glowing red letters on them. As soon as Harry was close enough to read what the badges said he wished that he wasn’t. He refused to respond to their taunts, even when surrounded on all sides by the bright green words _POTTER STINKS_.

Only when Malfoy uttered the word “Mudblood” did Harry snap. Things happened very quickly after that. One minute his wand was out and he was breathing heavily. The next, Hermione was in the hospital wing, Gryffindor had been docked fifty points, and both he and Ron were given detentions for shouting obscenities at the blatantly biased Professor Snape. For a split second, Harry hoped this injustice might just reunite them.

It didn’t.

Harry was still seething when Colin Creevey arrived and informed Snape that the youngest champion was needed upstairs. As horrified as he was that he was being called up for what sounded like a photo shoot, Harry couldn’t help feeling a little satisfied over how much letting him go angered Snape.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it, Harry?” Colin said as they made their way up the stairs to the entrance hall. “Isn’t it, though? You being champion?”

“Yeah, really amazing,” Harry said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Not that Colin noticed. Ever. Suddenly he remembered something the eager boy had said back in the dungeon. “Did you say all of the champions were going to be there?”

“Yeah,” Colin squeaked. “Fleur and Krum are already there. At least that’s what Cedric said.”

Harry stopped dead.

“Cedric?” he said. “When did you talk to Cedric? Why did you talk to Cedric?”

“He was on his way to come get you when I ran into him,” Colin explained. “Good thing too, I don’t think he had any idea where he was going. He was pacing in the entrance hall when I found him. I said I knew what class you were in and that I’d go and fetch you. He told me it wasn’t necessary, but I insisted, of course.”

“Of course,” Harry repeated. He followed Colin the rest of the way up the stairs. “Did Cedric happen to mention what these photos are for?”

“I think he said the _Daily Prophet_!” Colin said enthusiastically. “Isn’t that great?”

“Yeah,” Harry said darkly. “It’s the greatest.”

“Well, this is it,” Colin said when they reached a closed door. “Good luck, Harry!”

“Thanks,” Harry grumbled.

He tried to open the door but it wouldn’t budge. Remembering that this door liked to be asked nicely, Harry uttered a quick “please” and was granted entry.

Inside, the small classroom had been completely rearranged for the shoot. Ludo Bagman was speaking with a witch Harry didn’t recognize. Standing in a corner was Viktor Krum, staring sullenly off into space. Over to one side, Cedric was conversing with Fleur Delacour. Harry fumed as Fleur giggled and tossed her hair to one side, smiling coyly at the Hufflepuff boy. Cedric looked over and locked eyes with Harry briefly. Before either of them could do anything, Bagman spotted Harry and rushed toward him.

“Ah, here he is!” Bagman cried, wrapping an inappropriately affectionate arm around the boy. “Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come….”

After a brief and incredibly uncomfortable interview with Rita Skeeter, who it turned out was every bit as horrible and manipulative as her writing suggested, everyone gathered in the main room. Four of the five judges sat behind the velvet-covered table in front of the blackboard. The other champions sat in a row of chairs by the door. Harry’s heart thudded as he took the only remaining seat, which just happened to be next to Cedric. The boy smiled.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Harry simply nodded in response, rather than risk saying something stupid.

Dumbledore took his seat as he introduced Mr. Ollivander. The old wand-maker stepped forward and asked to examine Fleur Delacour’s wand first. Harry tried to pay attention to the process Ollivander was going through and not the fact that Cedric’s knee was resting lightly against his.

“Mr. Diggory, you next,” Ollivander said when he finished with Fleur, who smiled at Cedric as he walked past her. Harry frowned.

“Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn’t it?” Ollivander said as he took Cedric’s wand. “Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn … must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches … ash … pleasantly springy. It’s in fine condition…. You treat it regularly?”

“Polished it last night,” Cedric said with a grin. He glanced at Harry.

 _Uhm, what?_ Harry thought.

Ollivander examined Cedric’s wand, then had it release a row of silver smoke rings before letting the boy sit back down. Next came Krum. Harry’s stomach was bunched in knots, and not just because Cedric’s leg was now pressing even closer to his own.

“Good,” Ollivander said as he handed Krum back his wand. “Which leaves…Mr. Potter.”

Harry got up, leaving behind comforting yet dizzying effect physical contact with Cedric had on him, and shuffled over to where Ollivander stood. With some reluctance, he handed the man his wand.

“Aaaah, yes,” Ollivander said. His eyes widened with excitement. “Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember.”

Harry held his breath. Ollivander had given Cedric’s wand’s entire history, and all that contained was a nasty incident with a unicorn. He didn’t want to imagine how long-winded the man could be with his wand. The last thing Harry needed in the midst of all this drama was an article in the _Daily Prophet_ revealing the relationship between his wand and Lord Voldemort’s. He breathed a sigh of relief when Ollivander finally handed the wand back without another word.

Several photos later they were all free to go. Dumbledore even allowed the champions to go straight to dinner, as they had taken so long that class was almost over anyway. It dawned on Harry that this was his opportunity to confront Cedric. He rushed out of the room after the enigmatic other champion, only to find that he was already waiting for Harry. He nodded a greeting and they both set off across the entrance hall.

“So, that went pretty well,” Cedric said.

“I know,” Harry agreed. “I hope the first task is as simple as that was.”

“Somehow I doubt it,” Cedric said. “What did that Skeeter woman want with you?”

“Oh, you know,” Harry groused. “The big scoop on how I entered the tournament, a few tearful sentiments about my dead parents.” Harry paused. “What did Fleur want with you?”

“Who knows?” Cedric replied. “Probably a date, or at least a snog. She was laying on the charm pretty thick. I guess you noticed that.”

“I did,” Harry said. “Did it work?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Cedric stopped and looked at Harry seriously.

“What do you mean?” he asked

“Well,” Harry said. “She’s pretty. And apparently part veela. Kind of hard to resist charm from a girl like that.”

“For some, maybe,” Cedric relented.

“But not you,” Harry pointed out.

“Not me.”

“Why not?” Harry pressed.

Cedric sighed and chewed his lip.

“I’m just … not interested in her.”

“Why not?”

“Broken record much?” Cedric snapped, readjusting the shoulder strap of his bag. “Why does it matter so much to you who I may or may not be interested in?”

“Because I'm interested in—”

Given the volume of his voice, Harry was extremely lucky  that he stopped himself from finishing that sentence. He thought for a moment, and started again, this time much more quietly.

“The other night, it seemed like you were, you know … were about to … kiss me.” Cedric stared at him. A horrible, mortifying thought exploded in Harry’s mind. “ ** _Were_** you about to kiss me?”

“I was thinking about it,” Cedric said frankly.

The question escaped from Harry’s mouth before he could stop it: “Why?”

“Well, that’s slightly different, you did drop the ‘not’,” Cedric grinned. He gave Harry a look like he was crazy before saying, “Because I like you.”

Off across the grounds a bell rang signaling the end of class. Harry glanced over at the corridor of classrooms where students were all filing out for dinner. When he looked back Cedric was already halfway across the Great Hall.

Harry stood by the door, beaming, and waited for Hermione, so he could thank her for telling him to confront Cedric.

  



	8. I Should Tell You

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER EIGHT**

“I Should Tell You”

  


“He said he likes you?!?”

“Would you keep your voice down?” Harry admonished, glancing around to make sure no one had overheard. When it appeared no one had, he answered, in a much quieter voice than his friend, “Yes, he said he likes me.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t come and tell me this last night!!” Hermione cried.

“I didn’t know where you were,” Harry said in his defense. “Besides, you were kind of busy trying to get getting those fangs reduced. How are your teeth, by the way?”

“They’re fine, don’t worry about it,” Hermione said. “This is great!” Then, off the expression on Harry’s face, added, “Isn’t it great?”

“No, it’s…it’s great,” Harry said uncertainly. “I just have **_no_** idea what to do now.”

“Well, you told him you like him back, right?”

Harry stared down at his breakfast.

“You told him you like him back, **_right_**?” Hermione repeated, much more forcefully. The boy still didn’t answer. “Oh, Harry!”

“I didn’t have time!” Harry said hastily. “The bell rang and people were coming down for dinner and I looked away for a second and he just took off!” Harry stabbed at his eggs with his fork. “This is not my fault. And I’m getting really tired of defending myself to people. I should have ‘Not My Fault’ printed up on a T-shirt or something and wear it at all times.”

“You would make quite the fashion statement with that,” Hermione joked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want all of this to work out for you.” She took a bite of her eggs and grimaced. “Ow.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Hermione said. “I just bit my tongue.” She pressed a finger to it, checking for blood. “I really hate Malfoy.”

“I’m sure the feeling is mutual,” Harry said. He laughed and said, “Could you imagine if **_he_** was the one I had a crush on?”

“I think **_you_** should be the one biting your tongue,” Hermione replied.

“Point taken,” Harry said. “So you think I should try and talk to Cedric?”

“Absolutely,” Hermione told him. “Look at it this way: you already know he likes you, so what could possibly go wrong?”

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


Perhaps it was because Hermione had tested fate by asking what could possibly go wrong, or because Harry was destined to be extremely unlucky in love. Or maybe it was simply because Rita Skeeter was that much of a horrible person. All Harry knew was that he had just about built up enough courage to confront Cedric and tell him how he felt when he discovered that the article about the Triwizard Tournament had been printed. As it turned out, it was a great deal less about the tournament than they had been led to believe. That much was obvious from the incredibly large picture of Harry on the _Daily Prophet_ ’s front page. Now Harry was spending as much time avoiding Cedric as he had working up the nerve to face him.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Hermione told him during one of their lunchtime visits to the library.

“I’m not being ridiculous,” Harry insisted, riding low in his seat so he wouldn’t be seen. He was scribbling absentmindedly on a piece of parchment with his quill. “Maybe I’ve just decided that I don’t like Cedric anymore. Did you even think about that?”

“No, I didn’t think about that,” Hermione said. “Probably because you’ve been doodling the letter C for the past ten minutes.”

Harry flushed and scratched out the offending letter.

“I’m been drawing broomsticks, too. Are you going to tell me I’m in love with my Firebolt as well?”

“Well, I have always suspected you had an unhealthy addiction to Quidditch,” Hermione said. “And brooms are quite phallic. It might explain a few things.”

“Very funny,” Harry said.

“I’m sure Cedric knows what kind of person Rita Skeeter is,” Hermione said. “He did meet her, after all. And even if he does believe that rubbish she wrote about you, then he’s not even worth your time.” A peel of giggles sounded from behind one of the bookshelves and Hermione frowned. “Ugh, they’re back again.”

Whenever Harry and Hermione spent time in the library lately, they found that the Durmstrang champion, Viktor Krum, was also there. He never bothered them, but he did bring an annoyance with him. Krum, it seemed, had garnered a small group of female followers during his short stay at Hogwarts. Hermione called them the Viktorias, and she considered them extremely irritating.

“I didn’t even notice them there,” Harry said nervously. “Do you think they heard us?”

“I don’t think they can hear anything over that obnoxious giggling,” Hermione muttered. “It’s pathetic, really. They only like him because he’s famous! They wouldn’t look twice at him if he couldn’t do that Wonky-Faint thing—”

“Wronski Feint,” Harry corrected automatically.

“Broomstick-lover,” Hermione replied crossly.

Harry stared down at the markings on the sheet in front of him. A crossed out letter C stared back at him.

“Do you think that’s why Cedric likes me?” he asked. “Because I’m famous?”

“I think Cedric’s smarter than that,” Hermione said. “But you won’t know unless you talk to him.”

“All right, I’ll think about it,” Harry promised, standing up from the table. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Hermione said. “Where are you going?”

“I just realized I left my Potions essay back up in the dorm,” Harry explained.

“Well, hurry,” Hermione warned him. “The last thing you need right now is another detention with Snape.”

As he made his way up to the Gryffindor Tower, Harry thought about speaking with Cedric, just as he promised Hermione he would. She was right, of course; he should just do it, get it over with. He was going to have to face Cedric eventually, they **_were_** both competing in the tournament. Maybe he could try and find Cedric that night after dinner, or sometime over the weekend. Or sometime next week....

“Gotcha!”

Suddenly Harry was pulled into a narrow side corridor by a strong pair of hands and pressed against a wall. He scrambled for his wand as he looked into the eyes of his attacker; smiling, gray eyes.

“Cedric?”

“Sorry for jumping you like that,” Cedric apologized, still keeping Harry’s shoulders pinned to the wall. “I didn’t see any other choice.”

“Just saying ‘hello’ never crossed your mind?!” Harry cried. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Cedric said. “What was I supposed to do?”

“I haven’t been....” Harry started, but Cedric’s eyes bore into his and he couldn’t finish the lie. “So you noticed that, eh?”

“You basically fled whenever I came near you,” Cedric said. “Kind of hard not to.” Cedric frowned and asked, “Is this because of what I told you?”

“What?” Harry asked back, genuinely confused. Then he realized what the older boy meant and his eyes widened. “Oh! No, of course not! I figured you would be mad about the article, so I thought it was best to just… stay out of your way.”

“I’m not mad,” Cedric grinned. “I don’t care about stupid newspaper articles.”

“Your friends certainly do,” Harry grumbled. “I can’t seem to turn a corner these days without someone reciting to me how I still cry at night over my dead parents.”

“Believe me, anyone who would do that to you is not my friend,” Cedric reassured him. “Amazing how many of those ‘friends’ I’ve picked up since the tournament began. I’m getting high fives from people I’ve never even seen before. It’s disturbing, the number of strangers that've touched me in the last few weeks.”

“You’re welcome to switch places with me,” Harry said grimly. “I’d take being touched over being cursed at any day.”

Cedric slowly moved his hand from Harry’s shoulder to his cheek. He stared down at the younger boy and swallowed.

“Like this?” he asked, voice shaking.

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Harry said, just as shaky.

He brought a hand up to cup the one holding his face. His heart was going so fast he thought it might burst. The way Cedric’s eyes gazed into Harry’s made his insides grow warm. He didn’t want to ever leave this place. To think, he would’ve never even come across Cedric like this if he hadn’t forgotten his—

“Potions essay!” Harry shouted suddenly.

“What?” said the incredibly confused Hufflepuff.

“I forgot my Potions essay up in my room!”

Harry pulled himself away reluctantly and tore out of the small corridor.

“Wait!” Cedric called. Harry skidded to a halt, nearly toppling over. “Can I— Are you going to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“I wasn’t really planning on it,” Harry admitted. “It’s not like there’s anyone going who wants to see me.”

“Well, I’m going,” Cedric said, smiling slightly. “So that makes at least one.”

Harry, unsure how to respond to this statement, simply nodded, then rushed off toward the Gryffindor Tower with a quick wave. Luckily he was able to find his way there without having to pay much attention to where he was going, because while his body was rushing up and down flights of stairs, his mind was back in that corridor with Cedric’s hand on his face and his eyes on Harry’s lips. He barely noticed the glare Snape gave him when he rushed into the dungeon seconds before class began.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


At dinner, Harry filled Hermione in on his run-in with Cedric.

“We’re going,” Hermione told him.

“What about Ron?” he asked. “Don’t you want to go with him?”

“I could always meet with him while you’re with Cedric,” Hermione said. She added hesitantly, “Or we could meet with him together.”

“No,” Harry said firmly. “And I’m bringing my Invisibility Cloak.”

“Now, that’s just silly,” Hermione said, “how can Cedric see you if you’re invisible?” She pondered that statement a moment and said, “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do,” Harry said. “If we happen to run into Cedric, I dunno, I’ll take it off, I guess. But I’d rather not have to face anyone else.”

Hermione gave a halfhearted sigh, but agreed.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


The Three Broomsticks was as crowded that weekend as ever. Harry almost couldn’t make it to an empty table without bumping into someone, which is not the best way to keep people from noticing you’re wearing an Invisibility Cloak. He sat with Hermione in silence, her mind on S.P.E.W., Harry’s not so much. For the most part his thoughts were of his meeting with Sirius much later that evening, but as always there were also a few about Cedric intermingling. He wondered what Sirius would have to say to him, and if seeing his godfather would do anything to calm his addled nerves. He also wondered if Cedric would show up in the Three Broomsticks, an idea that made him anything but calm.

Harry looked at the sea of smiling, cheerful faces surrounding him. If his name hadn’t come out of the goblet, he would be among them. It wasn’t the first time it had occurred to him, and certainly wouldn’t be the last, but every time it still stung a bit. He wouldn’t be in a fight with Ron, and he wouldn’t be anticipating Tuesday with such paralyzing self-doubt.

After sitting in silence for several minutes, they were approached by Moody and Hagrid. Their encounter left Harry more confused than ever, with the revelation that Moody’s magical eye could see through his Cloak and Hagrid’s request that Harry come to his cabin that night.

“Why does Hagrid want me to meet him at midnight?” Harry wondered aloud as soon as the two professors had moved on.

“Does he?” Hermione responded, surprised. “I wonder what he’s up to? I don’t know whether you should go, Harry. It might make you late for Sirius.”

“Talking to yourself, Granger?” a cheerful voice said.

Both Harry and Hermione looked up, startled, to find Cedric making his way through the crowd to their table, carrying a bottle of butterbeer.

“What?” Hermione said. “Oh. Yes, I was just thinking out loud.”

“Mind if I sit?” Cedric asked, indicating the seat Harry was in. To him, it appeared to be empty.

“No!” she cried, grabbing at the chair before Cedric could reach it. “I mean, yes. I mean, sit over here.” She moved some of her S.P.E.W. papers toward Harry’s side of the table to make room for the older boy.

“Thanks,” he said, slightly bemused by Hermione’s antics. “What is all that stuff, anyway?” Cedric glanced at one of the pages and read the word he saw there, “‘Spew’?”

“The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare,” Hermione explained exasperatedly. “It’s a club dedicated to ensuring that house-elves are given fair wages and proper working conditions, like sick days and time off. It’s two Sickles to join,” she hinted.

“Oh,” Cedric said. Undoubtedly he regretted having asked. He took a swig of his butterbeer and looked nervously around. “So, uh, have you seen Harry anywhere?”

“I haven’t,” Hermione replied honestly.

“Oh,” Cedric said again, though much more heavily this time. He looked rather disappointed and chewed at his lip thoughtfully. “Hermione,” he said. “Has Harry… mentioned me at all?” Hermione stared, clearly at a loss for words, and the Hufflepuff blushed. “Sorry, that was stupid. I’ll leave you to your work.”

He stood and started to walk away. Hermione stared pleadingly at where she knew Harry was sitting.

“Cedric, wait!” she said.

For a second Harry thought she was going to yank off his Cloak and reveal that he had been there the whole time. Cedric turned back around.

“Harry just has a lot going on right now,” Hermione said. “Give him time. I’m sure he’ll…turn up…eventually.” She smiled knowingly. Cedric smiled back.

“Thanks,” he said. “Oh, and here.” Cedric dug into his pocket and brandished two silver Sickles. "This S.P.E.W. sounds like a noble cause." He handed the coins to Hermione and departed with a wave.

“That went well,” Harry said once Cedric was gone.

“You prat,” Hermione chided. “What happened to taking off the Invisibility Cloak if Cedric showed up?”

“I can’t just take it off in the middle of a crowded room, Hermione,” Harry shot back. “People might think I’m trying to show off some more.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Hermione said. “It was awfully nice of him to join S.P.E.W. like that.” Her eyes widened as she realized, “Oh, shoot! I forgot to give him a badge.”

“I don’t think he’ll mind,” Harry told her.

“Don’t ruin this by making me have to kick you under the table,” Hermione warned. “He’s sweet. And he so obviously likes you. There are scarier things to face than a teenage boy with a crush.”

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


Like dragons, for example.

After Hagrid showed him the fearsome, fiery beasts, they were practically all Harry could think about. He and Hermione spent most of Sunday in the library reading any book they could find involving dragons, until Viktor Krum came in, followed by the Viktorias, at which point Hermione insisted they relocate to their common room. So far they hadn’t been able to find anything useful.

Harry’s conversation with Sirius hadn’t been too helpful, either. Instead of alleviating his fears about the oncoming task, his godfather had only made him more nervous about everything else. To make matters worse, Harry had been planning on (probably) confessing his strange new feelings to Sirius once they were done discussing dragons, until Ron interrupted them and forced Sirius to depart from fear of being caught. The incident, and resulting argument, had done nothing to endear Ron to him.

By Monday morning Harry felt like he hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in ages. He could barely get any breakfast down, so he fell back on his favorite mealtime hobby: surreptitiously watching Cedric at the next table over.

 _He doesn’t know about the dragons,_ Harry realized suddenly.

Madame Maxime had probably told Fleur about them. And what else would Karkaroff have been doing creeping about if not trying to find out what the first task was to tell Krum? If Harry was right, Cedric was the only one of the four champions who **_didn’t_** know what was coming. Seeing Cedric rise from the Hufflepuff table, Harry quickly made his decision.

“Hermione, I’ll see you in the greenhouses,” Harry said absently to his friend. “Go on, I’ll catch you up.”

Hermione followed his gaze and grinned.

“All right,” she replied. “Just be quick, the bell’s about to ring.”

Hurrying after the older boy, Harry noticed that he was surrounded by several other sixth-year students. He couldn’t talk to Cedric in front of them. What would they think of Harry passing along secret information about the task? Plus, some of them were the ones who had been quoting the _Daily Prophet_ article to him for the past few weeks. Harry really didn’t want to hear any of that right now. He followed the group all the way to the third floor without any clue how to separate Cedric from his annoying lackeys. He seriously considered taking drastic measures, like using a spell to split Cedric’s bag or something, but realized how ridiculous that was.

“Cedric!” Harry shouted before he realized what he was doing.

 _I guess I’m going for the direct approach,_ he thought quickly.

The group of sixth years stopped and looked back at him. Several rolled their eyes or made angry faces. Some even made rude gestures behind Cedric's back. Cedric himself looked pleased yet puzzled.

“Harry?” he said. “What—” Cedric turned back to the rest of the group. “You all go ahead, tell Flitwick I’ll be right along.” The others grudgingly departed, though not without casting a few glares at Harry first. The remaining Hufflepuff approached Harry with a smile. “Well this is a pleasant—”

“Dragons!” Harry blurted.

“I was going to say ‘surprise’ but okay, pleasant dragons,” Cedric replied.

“The first task,” Harry explained, “is dragons. They’ve got one for each of us; you, me, Fleur and Krum.”

“You’re not joking,” Cedric said, the smile slowly evaporating from his face.

“If I was, it wouldn’t be very funny, would it?”

“No, not really,” Cedric said. He ran his hand through his hair, looking about as worried as Harry felt. “And you’re sure about this?”

“Well, I saw them, so unless I mistook something else to be four dragons,” Harry said. “We have to get past them somehow, that’s all I know.”

“Wait, back up,” Cedric said. “How did you see them? How do you know all of this?”

“Does it matter?” Harry asked, hoping Cedric wouldn’t press any further. He was sure Hagrid would get into trouble if anyone knew he had told Harry about the dragons. Forget told him about them, he showed them to Harry! This could get Hagrid sacked.

“I guess not,” Cedric sighed.

“Look, I’m pretty sure Fleur and Krum know,” Harry said. “Madame Maxime and Karkaroff both saw the dragons. So I just… wanted to tell you.

Cedric eyed Harry suspiciously and asked, “Why?”

Harry stared.

“Are **_you_** joking?” he asked incredulously. “It’s dragons! You know,” he waved his arms, imitating large, flapping wings, “dragons?” He hesitated, then added softly, “I’m worried about you, too, you know. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Why?” Cedric asked, taking a step closer.

“Now who’s the broken record?” Harry teased. “Maybe I like you, too.”

“Maybe…” Cedric said.

He was leaning so close now….

Suddenly a notorious clunking sound came from a nearby doorway. The two boys turned quickly and saw Mad-Eye Moody appear.

“Come with me, Potter,” he growled. “Diggory, off you go.”

  



	9. Fortune Favors the Brave

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER NINE**

“Fortune Favors the Brave”

  


Potter and Diggory couldn’t move, frozen in terror. Cedric was the first one to attempt a plea in their defense.

“P-professor,” he stammered. “We-we were just—”

“I’m not going to tell you twice, Diggory,” Moody said, his calm tone barely masking the underlying threat. “Get going!”

Giving Harry a sympathetic glance, Cedric turned and headed for the same classroom his friends had entered. Something about the way Moody watched him go made Harry extremely uncomfortable. He wondered if Moody’s eye could see through muscles and bone, see how rapidly their hearts were beating. Would he think their guilty expressions were from anxiety over being caught out of class? It was part of the reason. The other part, well, that was something worse. Could Moody have heard them talking, seen how close they were to…?

“Let’s go, Potter,” Moody grumbled, He turned and, with surprising speed for someone with a limp, headed toward the stairs.

“Professor,” Harry began, rushing after the former Auror, “I’m supposed to be in Herbology—”

“Never mind that, Potter,” Moody replied. He spoke with the same edge he had used on Cedric. “In my office, please….”

Figuring it was best not to argue with the man who turned Draco Malfoy into a ferret, Harry followed in silence. What kind of punishment would he give Harry for catching him with another boy in the Charms corridor during class time? Sooner than Harry would have liked they were at Moody’s office. Moody ushered the boy inside, then entered behind him and closed the door. He faced Harry, staring at him with both his normal and magical eyes.

“That was a very decent thing you just did, Potter,” Moody said evenly.

Harry stared.

_What the hell is he talking about?_

Moody told Harry to sit and went on to discuss the Triwizard Tournament. All he cared about was that Harry had told Cedric about the dragons. Harry relaxed considerably, especially when Moody began giving him advice about the task. By the time he left the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor’s office, he was almost glad that Moody had interrupted him and Cedric.

Almost.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


“Harry, you need to concentrate,” said Hermione for the umpteenth time.

“Merlin’s beard, Hermione!” Harry cried. “I get it! Okay? I get it! I know I have to concentrate! It doesn’t help for you to keep saying it over and over and over again!”

Across the Gryffindor common room, Hermione scowled. It was nearly one in the morning, and they had been attempting to teach Harry the Summoning Charm for hours. Given the trouble he had been having with it so far, it was not going well. The first task was mere hours away and Harry was showing no signs of improving.

“I’m only trying to help you, you know,” Hermione said coolly. “Maybe I should just go up to bed and let you figure this out on your own.”

Harry smiled despite himself.

“You could never let me get away with not being able to perform a charm properly, dragon or no dragon,” he replied.

The distraught champion plopped down in an armchair near the fire and removed his glasses so he could massage the bridge of his nose. He was getting very tired, and seriously considering just throwing in the towel on his whole Summoning Charm idea. It was good in theory but, even if he did learn it in the next few hours, it certainly wouldn’t help for him to face the dragon exhausted. Perhaps some sort of inspiration would strike him after a good night’s sleep. It was extremely doubtful, but at this point it was all he had. He was on the verge of suggesting this to Hermione when she spoke up again.

“I think we’re going about this the wrong way,” she said. “Maybe if we used some sort of analogy to help you focus.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“Well,” Hermione began, “try thinking about something that you want.”

“I **_want_** to learn how to do this charm,” Harry quipped.

“No, I don’t mean like a goal,” Hermione said. “All right. Close your eyes and relax.”

Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow at his friend. Then, secure in the knowledge that she was one of the brightest students at Hogwarts, did as he was told. Besides, he doubted she would have him do anything of no use so late the night before he was going to face a dragon. It took a few moments for his hectic brain to settle down, but Hermione waited patiently.

“Now,” Hermione said, after enough time had passed. “Think back. Hasn’t there ever been anything that you wanted so badly that you felt like … if you just **_wished_** hard enough, it would appear? Focus on those things, and how that made you feel.”

In his mind, Harry went back to his days on Privet Drive . He thought about his aunt and uncle and cousin. About the tiny cupboard under the stairs that he had lived in for more than a decade. About all the things that he had been deprived of as a child. It was a long list; toys, friends, food. Parents.

Beauty. Color. Happiness.

Love.

A horrible yearning feeling socked Harry in the chest after each item on this list.

“Can you remember that feeling?” Hermione asked softly.

“Yes,” Harry answered, still deep in concentration.

“Good,” Hermione said. “Now I want you to think of thinks that you’ve gotten. Things that have made you happy.”

Now Harry’s reflections were much more recent, all within the last three years or so. Anything that made him truly happy came after his eleventh birthday. Finding out that he was a wizard. Making his first friend on the Hogwarts Express. (Though that memory now had a tinge of sadness when he thought about how Ron currently was not speaking to him.)

Harry remembered the first time he rode a broom, and every time after that. The first Quidditch game he ever won.

Finding out that Sirius was innocent and the temporary elation of believing he would take Harry away from the Dursleys forever.

Finding out that Cedric liked Harry the same way Harry liked him.

A warm, rumbling feeling rolled around in Harry’s stomach as he remembered all the things that had made living the first eleven years of his life before the last three worthwhile.

“Can you remember that feeling?” Hermione asked again in that same soft, soothing tone.

“Yes,” Harry repeated.

“Good,” Hermione said. “You can open your eyes now.” He did. “Do you feel a little more relaxed?”

Harry nodded.

“Now what do I do?”

“Okay, you’re going to take what you just did and apply it here,” Hermione explained. “While you’re focusing on the object you’re trying to summon, think about how you felt when you wanted something. Then when you cast the spell, think about the way you felt when you actually got something. It’s all about the emotion behind the charm, as well as the visualization.”

Nodding like he understood, Harry got to his feet. He looked around for something to try and summon. There were several items to choose from scattered around the otherwise empty common room. Deciding to start small, Harry turned his focus on a quill he’d noticed. He concentrated on the feather and, like Hermione told him to, thought about that feeling of longing. Harry let the feeling grow stronger and stronger.

_I want that quill._

“ _Accio Quill_!” he cried.

At the same time, Harry switched his focus from the wanting feeling to the having feeling, visualizing the quill zooming towards him. Astonishingly, this is exactly what the quill did. It flew swiftly across the room and right into Harry’s open palm.

“You did it!” Hermione shouted, beaming. “Oh, Harry, I knew you could!”

Harry smiled too, feeling immensely proud of himself.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Hermione,” he told her. “Where did you learn that technique?”

“Actually, I just made it up on the spot,” Hermione confessed. “I figured if I could simply get you to calm down and find a way for you to relate to it, everything else would just fall into place. Thank goodness it did, because I honestly have no idea what I would have done if it hadn’t.”

“Nice, Hermione,” Harry laughed. “All right, I might as well keep practicing. Maybe something a bit heavier than a feather this time.”

For the next hour, Harry made an assortment of objects fly across the room at his bidding. By two o’clock he was surrounded by so many that he was almost barricaded by them.

“Harry, you’ve made an amazing improvement,” Hermione said, looking delighted, though tired. “Come on, let’s put this stuff back and head up to bed.”

“I just hope the charm is good enough for tomorrow,” Harry said nervously, up righting a chair he had summoned ten minutes earlier. “The Firebolt’s going to be a lot farther away than any of this stuff.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Hermione insisted. “As long as you concentrate and put the proper feeling into the spell you’ll do fine. Remember: if you want it badly enough, you can make it happen.” She looked at the clock she had just put back in its place. “I think this clock is running slowly.”

“It might’ve broken after I dropped it,” Harry said. He’d tried summoning the thing then accidentally let it fall when he discovered it was too heavy for him to catch. He paused. “Maybe we don’t tell anyone that happened.”

“Maybe,” Hermione said.

Harry knew she must have been worn-out if she was willing to lie about destruction of school property. He thanked her again and they both said goodnight. Harry climbed the stairs to his dorm and collapsed on his bed without even changing into pajamas, trying his hardest not to think about what he was going to be facing tomorrow.

That night Harry dreamed he was being chased by a dragon with gray eyes that fled every time he turned to face it.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


“Harry, eat something,” Hermione pleaded. “You’re going to need your strength.”

Harry glanced at her over his lunch. He didn’t want to admit that if he tried to eat it he might lose it, so he said nothing. Instead he poked at the food in front of him with his fork a bit more. Hermione frowned, but didn’t push any further. Harry was grateful for her understanding silence. They were both very much aware that he would be called to face his task at any moment.

Suddenly they both heard a lot of shouting at the next table.

“What is that?” Harry wondered, craning his neck to see who was yelling. Much to Harry’s surprise, it was – “Cedric?”

“Oh no,” Hermione murmured. “He must have caught someone wearing one of those badges.”

“Whating one of those who?” Harry asked, very confused as to what could make someone as peaceable as Cedric holler like that.

“The badges,” Hermione repeated. “Those Support Cedric/Potter Stinks badges? Surely you know that he’s been giving hell to anyone who wears them?” Harry stared vacantly at his friend. “Oh. Wow. I guess you didn’t know.”

“Why would he do something like that?” Harry wondered.

Now it was Hermione’s turn to stare.

“You really are a dope, Harry.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry said petulantly. “Exactly what I want to hear when I’m about to face a dragon.”

As if on cue, Professor McGonagall appeared at Harry’s side and told him it was time for the first task. Harry dropped his utensil on his plate and stood up from his seat.

“Good luck, Harry,” Hermione said. She lowered her voice so McGonagall wouldn’t hear and added, “Just remember what we went over and you’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” he said. Harry tried to sound confident but even he could hear the hollowness in his voice.

As McGonagall escorted Harry to where the dragons were being kept, the nervous young champion noticed that the head of Gryffindor house was acting very strange. She seemed apprehensive and kept shooting Harry concerned looks. In a highly uncharacteristic gesture, she even placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Now, don’t panic,” McGonagall advised, “just keep a cool head....”

Harry nearly had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. “Cool head”? He wondered if the professor had chosen that phrase on purpose. She said a few more encouraging things before finally giving up. She probably figured there was no consoling him at this point.

She was right.

After a few more too-short minutes, they arrived at the enclosure where the dragons were being held. A large tent had been put up in front of it, blocking the dragons from view. McGonagall told him to enter the tent, as he would be given instructions inside, and wished him luck. Harry thanked her and went inside.

The other three champions were already there. Fleur was sitting on a stool looking feeble and clammy and very un-Fleurlike. Krum was scowling harder than ever. Cedric was pacing back and forth across the tent. The minute Harry entered he looked up, like he had been waiting, and smiled. It was a weak smile, but it was there. It lifted Harry’s spirits enough for him to give a small smile in return, however much his face muscles tried to rebel against it.

“Harry! Good-o!” Bagman cried. He sounded much too cheerful for a man who knew what they were all about to face. “Come in, come in, make yourself at home!” And once more Harry found himself being literally dragged into an uncomfortable situation by the man.

The overly-excited Ministry official explained that once the audience was in place the champions would each choose at random which dragon they were going to face. He was very careful not to say “dragons” yet, but Harry, like the other champions, already knew, of course. The only new information he gave them was the reason they were facing the creatures: to capture a golden egg from it.

While they waited, Harry sat himself down on one of the chairs that had been provided for them. He closed his eyes and repeated what he and Hermione had discussed over and over. Harry felt someone sit beside him. He looked over and saw Cedric giving him a labored smile.

“How are you holding up?” he asked softly.

“I’m not,” Harry admitted. “You?”

“The same, I guess,” Cedric said.

“I bet you’re regretting entering right about now,” Harry joked.

“Actually,” Cedric replied, “at this particular moment, I’m pretty happy that I entered.”

He took a quick look around to see if anyone was watching, which they weren’t because they were all too worried about themselves, then placed his hand over Harry’s. Harry looked down at their joined hands, then back up at Cedric. There was anxiety in those deep gray eyes, yeah, but something else as well. Something that made the yearning, wanting feeling and the joyful, having feeling Harry had been working on conjuring mix and mesh until he felt like his whole torso was on fire.

“Listen,” Cedric said. “I was hoping I could see you later tonight. Our houses will inevitably have celebrations planned for tonight, but after that, maybe. I was thinking you could meet me in the entrance hall around eleven? Would that be okay?”

His eyes were now communicating a nervousness that had nothing to do with dragons. Harry smiled, an honest smile this time.

“I’d like that,” he said.

“Good,” Cedric said, smiling broadly. “Great. That’ll be something to look forward to, then.”

Harry nodded in agreement. Cedric gave Harry’s hand a soft yet firm squeeze before releasing it. Then the crowd died down and Bagman called for their attention again. It was time to choose.

They each picked out a dragon with a number on it. Fleur chose the Welsh Green, and the number two. Krum picked the Chinese Fireball, and the number three. Cedric got the Swedish Short-Snout, and would be going first. Harry knew exactly what was left: he would be going last, and he would be facing the Hungarian Horntail. The dragon Charlie Weasley had called vicious, and said he didn’t envy whoever had to go up against that one.

Harry was very proud of himself for not throwing up on the spot.

Bagman explained what they all already knew; that they would be facing the real-life version of the model they had chosen by order of the number around their dragon’s neck.

“Mr. Diggory, you’re first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle,” Bagman finished. Or at least they thought he was finished until he said, “Now … Harry … could I have a quick word? Outside?”

Harry stared. He had been hoping to spend his last few dragon-free moments with Cedric before the older boy was called to face his. As much as he would have liked to say no, Harry thought it was best to find out what Bagman wanted.

“Er, all right,” Harry said.

He gave an apologetic look to Cedric as he followed Bagman outside. The older wizard led him a short distance away from the tent and then turned, looking anxious.

“Feeling all right, Harry? Anything I can get you?”

“What?” Harry said. “I – no, nothing.”

 _This is what he pulled me away for?_ Harry wondered.

“Got a plan?” Bagman asked him. “Because I don’t mind sharing a few pointers, if you’d like them, you know. I mean,” he put a hand on Harry’s shoulder like McGonagall had done earlier, “you’re the underdog here, Harry…. Anything I can do to help…”

“No,” Harry said.

Bagman looked slightly offended at his abruptness but Harry didn’t really care. First he pulled Harry out of the tent and away from one of the few people who were of comfort to him at the moment, and then he suggested that Harry cheat. This was the Ministry’s head of the Department of Games and Sports. In Harry’s opinion, the man deserved much more than abruptness.

“Thanks anyway,” Harry added, “but I’ve already got a plan.”

His mind was working over time, going back and forth between thinking about Hermione’s technique and Cedric. Focus on wanting, focus on having. Cedric’s eyes staring into his as they clouded over with unease. On wanting, on having. Cedric’s suggestion that they meet later that night.

“Oh,” Bagman said. “Well, are you sure you don’t want me to—” A whistle sounded somewhere on the other side of the tent. “Good lord, I’ve got to run!”

He quickly ran off towards the crowd, leaving Harry alone. Harry was heading back toward the tent just as Cedric was exiting it. For once, the Hufflepuff boy didn’t smile when he saw Harry. He did nod, however. His face was a horrible ashy color.

“Good luck,” Harry said gently, clasping a hand on Cedric’s arm as they passed each other.

All of a sudden, Hermione’s words rang out in his head.

_Remember: if you want it badly enough, you can make it happen._

“Cedric,” he called, turning back around.

The other boy stopped and turned as well. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, Harry rushed forward and kissed him. Cedric leaned into the kiss, and Harry leaned back, both pouring every ounce of frustration and worry and want they had into each other. An instant later it was over, and Cedric was staring down at Harry, breathing heavily.

“What was that?” Cedric asked.

“Something to look forward to,” Harry replied.

Cedric blinked, then smiled and continued around to the other side of the tent. Harry watched him depart before going back inside. As he listened to the crowd cheer upon Cedric’s entrance, Harry pulled out his tiny model of the Hungarian Horntail. He smiled down at the tiny creature.

_Bring it on._

  



	10. We're Okay

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER TEN**

“We’re Okay”

  


While the crowd continued to cheer for Harry’s heroic escape, Madam Pomfrey dragged him into the first aid tent so she could attend to his wounds. He had gotten away relatively unscathed, the creature’s tail had only grazed Harry’s shoulder, but any wound received from a dragon was to be taken seriously. She led him to one of the tent’s cubicles and sat him down.

“Last year dementors, this year dragons,” Madam Pomfrey muttered as she checked Harry’s shoulder, “what are they going to bring into this school next? You’re very lucky … this is quite shallow … it’ll need cleaning before I heal it up, though….”

Harry waited patiently as she applied a purple liquid to his cut. He grimaced in pain, and annoyance, when the liquid caused his wound to smoke and sting. Apparently Madam Pomfrey didn’t think it was necessary to warn him about the potion’s side-effects. Harry looked over at the wall separating his section of the tent from the next one. He could just barely make out Cedric’s shadow on the canvas. Harry couldn’t tell what kinds of wounds Cedric had sustained through the heavy fabric, but felt comforted by the fact that the other boy was sitting up. If it was something more serious he would probably be lying down or something. After Pomfrey had healed his cut with her wand, Harry got up from his seat, hoping to go check on the older boy.

“Now, just sit quietly for a minute – **_sit!_** ” Madam Pomfrey said, forcing him back into his chair. “And then you can go and get your score.”

 _Who cares about my score?_ Harry thought angry. _I want to go and get Cedric._

He didn’t voice these thoughts. Instead Harry rolled his eyes and nodded. She had healed him, after all. And if she wanted to, Harry reckoned Madam Pomfrey had a few tricks up her wand to make sure he stayed put. He watched her march out of his portion of the tent and right next door to Cedric’s.

“How does it feel now, Diggory?” Harry heard her ask through the canvas.

His insides clenched with renewed anxiety. That didn’t sound good. Harry already nearly had a heart attack listening to Bagman’s tantalizingly cryptic comments while Cedric was facing his dragon. (Comments like “Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow” and “He’s taking risks, this one!”) After spending so much time worrying about facing the dragon, he damn near burst out into the arena to make sure Cedric was all right. Deciding a slightly cross Madam Pomfrey wasn’t entirely as scary to face as a fully-grown dragon, Harry hurried out of his cubicle to go see how Cedric really was. He pulled aside the flap that served as a door and found himself face-to-face with Hermione and Ron.

“Harry, you were brilliant!” Hermione cried. She was absolutely glowing with admiration, despite tearstains running down either side of her face. “I knew you could do it! I just knew you could!”

“Thanks,” he said to Hermione, but he was looking at Ron instead. “Do you have anything to say?”

Ron’s ears turned pink.

“That was some pretty fancy flying,” he said in a fake casual voice.

“You’re telling me,” Harry smirked.

“Harry…” he began awkwardly.

“It’s okay,” Harry said, suddenly realizing he didn’t need an apology. “Forget it.”

“No,” Ron said. “I should never have—”

“Then don’t,” Harry interrupted. “It’s okay.”

“Okay,” Ron replied, smiling genuinely now. Harry smiled too. A sharp sniffle drew their attention to Hermione, who was dabbing at a fresh batch of tears with her sleeve. “What are you crying about?” Ron asked.

“Shut up, Ron,” Hermione snapped.

“Careful there,” Harry warned, picking up his Firebolt the golden egg he had collected. He winced, finding their weight put more strain on his still sensitive shoulder than he expected. “We don’t need another feud; I’ve had my fill for the year.”

“Good point,” Ron said, taking the broom and egg from the injured boy before he could argue. “C’mon, they’re probably ready to put your scores up.”

Ron led the way out of the tent, followed by Harry and Hermione, with the battered champion leaning on his female friend for support. Harry tried to catch a glimpse of Cedric as they passed his stall but the flap was closed. He wanted desperately to ask his friends if the Hufflepuff boy was all right but was afraid to mention him so soon after making up with Ron.

Unable to contain himself, he asked guardedly, “So, how did the other champions do?”

“By other champions, do you mean Cedric?” Ron replied with a nervous grin.

Harry squirmed.

“You don’t…I mean, we don’t have to—”

“No, it’s okay,” Ron assured him. “He did pretty well, actually. Not nearly as good as you, but then who was?” Harry flushed with pride. “Anyway, he did this cool bit of Transfiguration, turning a rock into a dog. I think he was trying to get the dragon to go after it instead of him. Didn’t work out too well. He’s all right,” Ron added off the look on Harry’s face. “He got a little burned, but he was able to walk out of there on his own.”

The tight feeling in Harry’s stomach alleviated dramatically as they made their way back to the enclosure. Cedric was okay, if a little crispy. Ron was speaking to him again. He had faced the dragon and survived. Things were actually looking up the first time in weeks. Not even Karkaroff’s entirely biased score could dampen his spirits. The three of them were just about to head back up to the castle when Charlie Weasley stopped them and told Harry he was needed back in the champions’ tent.

Ron and Hermione waited outside while Harry went in. A moment later the other three champions entered as well. Fleur and Krum had a few scrapes and bruises but for the most part seemed fine. Cedric, on the other hand, was much more obviously damaged. The entire right side of his face was covered with a thick orange paste. Harry’s eyes bulged in surprise. Ron said Cedric had only been a little burned, he didn’t say anything about half his face needing mending. Cedric grinned as soon as he saw Harry, making the younger boy feel slightly better.

“Good one, Harry,” he said with a wink.

“And you,” Harry managed to say.

Before any more words could be exchanged, Ludo Bagman came bounding into the tent to congratulate them all. He went on to give the date of the second task and explain that the eggs they had collected contained a clue to help them figure out what the task would be. The champions were dismissed, and Harry and Cedric exited the tent together.

“So that could have gone worse,” Cedric said brightly.

“Says the guy who got a massive burn on his face,” Harry replied, eyeing the orange goop Cedric was covered in.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Cedric told him, placing an affectionate hand on Harry’s good arm.

Harry looked into Cedric’s calm, reassuring eyes and nodded to let the boy know he believed him. It occurred to Harry that they were standing mere feet from where they had shared they first kiss. It also occurred to Harry that they were being watched.

“Uhm, my friends are, uh … are waiting for me,” Harry stammered.

He gestured at where Ron and Hermione were still standing, very close by. Cedric glanced over at them. Ron smiled and Hermione waved sweetly.

“Then I should probably let you go,” Cedric said. “Are we still on for tonight, or has fighting the dragon taken your last shred of nerve?”

“I think I’ve got a bit of nerve left,” Harry confirmed.

“Good,” Cedric said. “I’ll see you later then.”

With a nod and a wave at Harry’s friends, Cedric turned and strode off toward the castle. Hermione immediately descended upon Harry.

“Tonight?” she asked excitedly. “What’s going on tonight?”

“Er, well,” Harry said. “Cedric sort of asked me if I would meet him in the entrance hall at eleven. And I sort of told him I would.”

“So what does this mean?” Hermione inquired. “Is it a date?”

Harry blanched. The word “date” hadn’t even crossed his mind until Hermione said it. **_Was_** it a date? He’d never been on a date before. Even worse, he had no idea how a date between two boys worked. Should he bring Cedric flowers or something? Or would Cedric bring **_him_** flowers? Harry’s brow scrunched. That didn’t sound right somehow, Cedric bringing him flowers. He should probably shower or something, though. Maybe try and fix his hair. Ron, who seemed to sense how much strain Hermione’s line of questioning was putting on his friend, stepped in on Harry’s behalf.

“Blimey, Hermione,” he said, “he just got done flying his broom against a dragon. Give him a bit of time before you start laying into him with the questions.”

“Fine, fine,” Hermione said, waving a hand in surrender.

Once again Harry was reminded why it was better to have two best friends than one.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


By the time Harry, Ron, and Hermione reached the Owlery, they were chatting like the past few weeks hadn’t happened at all. If anything, they were even closer now that there were no secrets between the three of them. After Harry finished his lengthy retelling of his clash with the Horntail for Sirius, he sent the letter off with Pigwidgeon and they all headed back to the Gryffindor common room. It was then that Ron decided to test the tenuous bonds of their newly restored friendship.

“So, are you gay or what?” he blurted.

To both boys’ surprise it was not Harry who shouted in response to the question but Hermione.

“Ron, hush!” she admonished.

“What?” Ron asked innocently. “There’s no use pretending we don’t all know what’s going on, I just thought—”

“No, you didn’t just think!” Hermione interrupted. “Of course **_we_** all know, but we don’t want the rest of the school to! The walls have ears, Ron. Especially at Hogwarts.”

Ron gaped at her. It was obvious that this thought had never occurred to him.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “But we can’t just not talk about it.”

“So, what, we’ll talk in secret code or something?” Hermione blinked at her own words. “That’s actually a pretty good idea. What should we use in place of, you know, **_it_**?”

They both looked at Harry, who stared back blankly. He was stunned by their eagerness to discuss the very secret he had been dreading them discovering.

“How about Quidditch?” Harry suggested. “It kind of fits. You know, since it’s named after Queerditch Marsh. Get it?” He smirked at Ron. “ ** _Queer_** ditch?”

Ron grinned back sheepishly.

“Fair enough,” he said.

“So, wait,” Harry said. “What’s the question then?”

“I guess the question becomes, which team do you play for?”

Harry thought carefully about how to phrase his answer with their newly concocted metaphor.

“Well,” Harry said slowly, “I guess you could say I play for the boys’ team. I mean, I wouldn’t mind playing for the girls’ team, I don’t think I would hate it or anything. But if I had to choose I would probably say boys’ team.” He gave Ron a sideways glance. “Does that bother you?”

“Not really,” Ron shrugged. “The only reason I said that … that thing to you when we had our fight was because I was angry. Whichever team you play for, it doesn’t bother me.” Then with a grin he added, “As long as you don’t try riding **_my_** broomstick.”

Harry punched him lightly on the shoulder.

“Boys are so vulgar,” Hermione complained as Harry and Ron threw a few more fake punches. “I don’t know why I even bother.”

Ron rolled his eyes at her and began the rest of the way down the rest of the Owlery steps.

“There are many things you’re an expert on, Hermione, but clearly the bonding rituals of teenaged males is not one of them,” he pontificated.

“Clearly,” she muttered.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


The party was already in full swing when they reached the Gryffindor common room. The food was abundant, the noise was raucous, and the air was sparkling with Filibuster’s Fireworks. Dean Thomas had done some remarkably good drawings for decorations. Most of them were of Harry and the Horntail, though there a few depicting Cedric with his head ablaze. Hermione tore these down before Harry even had time to react.

Harry ate and mingled and laughed with everyone else, thoroughly enjoying the celebration in his honor, but in the back of his mind he was counting down the minutes till eleven. He kept throwing subtle glances at the clock. Either he was checking far too often or time had slowed down because every time he looked it seemed that the clock’s hands had barely moved at all. Harry did his best not to worry about the time too much, but he couldn’t help himself.

While everyone else was distracted by Gryffindors transforming into canaries at random, thanks to Fred and George’s concoctions, Harry sank into an armchair by the fire to reflect on all that had happened to him recently. The Goblet, the fight, Cedric, the dragon; Harry had been through a lot the last few weeks. It was nice to finally have a moment to catch his breath.

 _It’s all over though,_ he though, a lazy smile spreading across his face. _The task is done, and the next one isn’t for months. Ron’s speaking with me again. And Cedric…._

Harry smile widened a little as he thought about Cedric.

“What are you smiling about?” Hermione asked, handing him a cup of punch as she sat in the armchair across from his. Harry eyed the drink suspiciously.

“This wouldn’t happen to be laced with Canary Cream, would it?” he asked.

“Oh, Harry, you see right through me,” Hermione quipped, rolling her eyes. “Thinking about your date?”

“It’s not a date,” Harry said immediately. “It’s just two people who are romantically interested in each other spending time together.” His friend stared at him over her drink with an amused look on her face. “Shut up,” he finished.

“I didn’t say a word,” Hermione laughed. Her demeanor turned more serious and she added, “Promise me you’ll be careful?”

“You worry too much, you know that?” Harry told her. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. Cedric wouldn’t have suggested we meet in the entrance hall if he thought we would get caught.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Hermione said.

“I know,” Harry replied.

Their quiet moment was broken by Ron suddenly rushing over from the other side of the common room.

“What the hell are you still doing here?!?” Ron cried.

“Uh, I don’t know if you’ve forgotten,” Harry said, “but we’re not mad at each other anymore. So this yelling thing has to stop now.”

“I thought you left already,” Ron said. “Weren’t you supposed to meet at eleven?”

“What do you mean ‘supposed to meet?’” Harry asked, utterly bewildered. He took a quick look at the clock. “It’s only a quarter of.”

“No,” Ron answered, holding up his watch-clad wrist. “It’s a quarter after.”

“That can’t be right,” Harry said in alarm, rising from his chair. “The clock says—” A horrible awareness dawned on him. “Hermione, last night, didn’t you say that the clock was….”

“It was running slowly,” Hermione finished. Her eyes bulged. “Oh, Merlin!”

Without another word, Harry bolted from the common room, praying with every step that Cedric hadn’t given up on him.

  



	11. Start of Something New

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

“Start of Something New”

  


Harry ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He was exhausted from flying against the dragon, but still he ran. He didn’t care about exhaustion, didn’t care about the consequences of being caught outside his dorm after hours. Snape himself could pop up and threaten him with detention for the rest of the year; Harry would’ve ignored the malevolent professor and kept running. He had come so far with Cedric, there was no way he was letting it all slip away because of some stupid clock.

 _Stupid, stupid clock,_ Harry thought as he leapt down several stairs. _When I get back to the common room tonight, I’m going to smash that damn thing. Into tiny, unrecognizable pieces._

Before he knew it, Harry had reached the ground floor. It must have been a record, because he could never remember getting down that many flights of stairs so quickly. The cavernous entrance hall was almost completely dark.

And empty.

Harry plopped down on the marble staircase, gasping for breath, and contemplated what to do next. He could always call out and see if Cedric was nearby, but then he risked being overheard and as a result terrorized by Peeves. Plus he was already nearly twenty minutes late for their, er, meeting. The odds of Cedric still being there were slim. He was probably better off going back up to his party while there was still a party to go back to.

“I am going to kill that stupid clock,” Harry muttered softly, climbing to his feet. “Things couldn’t go right for once, nooo, I had to be late because of a stupid, broken, lousy fuc—”

“Harry?”

Harry froze.

For a split second he thought it was Filch and that, on top of everything else, he was going to receive a detention as well. Then he realized that not only did the voice sound nothing like Filch, but never in more than three years at Hogwarts had the caretaker called him by his first name. Harry’s heart melted as he realized who the voice belonged to.

“Cedric?” he squeaked, squinting around the unlit hall. The older boy appeared out of the darkness nearly a foot away from Harry. The side of his face was still covered in the orange goop he’d had on earlier. “You waited.”

“I waited,” Cedric replied, smiling uneasily. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”

“I wouldn’t’ve missed this,” Harry said, beaming. “I didn’t even know I was late, the clock in our common room broke so now it’s off by half an hour.”

“Is that why you’re planning on becoming a clock killer?” Cedric asked.

“Well, the damn thing has it coming,” Harry insisted.

“Obviously,” Cedric said.

The two champions stared nervously at each other in the dimly lit hall.

“So, now what?” Harry blurted.

“What do you mean?” Cedric asked.

“Well,” Harry said, “you went through all the trouble of waiting twenty minutes for me to show up—”

“Thirty.”

“What?”

“I was waiting for thirty minutes,” Cedric explained. His eyes were fixed pointedly on the ceiling. “I sort of got here early.”

“Oh,” Harry said, blushing. “Well, my point is, you waited all that time, you must have something in mind. I mean, we’re not going to stand in the entrance hall all night, are we?”

“Actually,” Cedric said, taking a step closer, “there is something I wanted to do.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” Cedric leaned in, his face inches from Harry’s. “I really, **_really_** … want to wash this stuff off my face.”

Harry gave Cedric’s shoulder a gentle shove.

“You jerk,” he teased. “I don’t know any place where you can wash up that doesn’t run the risk of being interrupted. Except one, but it’s sort of a girls’ bathroom, and it’s also sort of haunted, so I guess that’s not so true….”

“Wait,” Cedric cut in. “Did you just say bathroom?”

“Yes,” Harry replied, wondering if he had suddenly made some sort of dating faux pas he wasn’t aware of.

“Follow me,” Cedric said, heading up the stairs.

“What?” Harry frowned. “I don’t understand, where are we—”

“Come on!”

Cedric doubled back and grabbed Harry’s hand, pulling the younger boy along with him. Harry stopped asking questions at this point. Any questions he’d wanted to ask were replaced a singular thought repeating over and over: _he’s holding my hand!_ Harry still felt a bit of apprehension, but the way Cedric’s fingers entwined with his own kept him from voicing it. Cedric led them up the stairs until they reached the second floor. As they headed down the corridor, Harry wondered anxiously if they actually **_were_** going to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. He wasn’t too keen on the idea and was therefore grateful when Cedric ducked behind a tapestry instead. Hidden behind the tapestry was a narrow staircase. They took it and, passing through another at the top, ended up on the fourth floor.

 _That’s where Cedric tackled me last week,_ Harry thought as they rushed past the familiar side corridor.

Had it really been only few days since Cedric pinned him against that wall? Since he stared deeply into Harry’s eyes while he held the younger boy’s face in his hand? Suddenly, Harry became very concerned about the sweatiness of his palm and worried that Cedric might find it unattractive.

They took another flight of stairs (where was Cedric taking him to, the Astronomy Tower?) and headed down another corridor. When they passed a statue of a confused-looking wizard with his gloves on the wrong hands, Cedric finally began to slow down. He came to a full stop in front of a plain wooden door.

“This is it,” Cedric said proudly.

Harry stared.

“A door?” he asked.

“Ah, but it’s what’s **_behind_** the door that counts.”

“Okay,” Harry said, feeling about as bewildered as the wizard whose statue they had just passed. “So open it then.”

Cedric nodded, then turned to the door and uttered, “Pine fresh,” which did nothing to abate Harry’s confusion. Nothing, that is, until the door opened and he saw what was inside.

The entire room was constructed of white marble and lit softly by an ornate candle-filled chandelier. In the middle was a sunken pit that looked like a swimming pool and, judging by the diving board on one side, very well could have been. It wasn’t until he noticed the many golden taps lined around it that Harry realized it wasn’t a swimming pool at all but a bath.

“Is this a bathroom?” Harry wondered.

“Prefects’ bathroom, to be precise,” Cedric told him. “Come on in.”

“Is it okay for me to be here?” Harry said uncertainly. “I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble.”

“For you I’d risk it,” Cedric replied with a wink, “but I’ll lock the door, just to be safe.”

While Cedric set to bolting the door behind them, Harry had another look around. There was a painting on one wall that he hadn’t noticed at first, a blonde mermaid who was currently dozing on a rock. He also found, on closer examination, that each of the bath’s golden taps had a different jewel set into the handle.

“Want to try one?” Cedric asked when he was finished with the door.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked back curiously. “Are they different?”

Cedric grinned and leaned over to turn one of the taps. A jet of water poured out along with hundreds of tiny bubbles that looked like translucent pearls. Another tap let loose a stream of huge pink and blue ones the size of Harry’s head.

“That’s awesome!” Harry said with a tad too much enthusiasm. He hoped Cedric hadn’t noticed his overzealousness, and attempted to distract him by asking, “So all of them are different?”

“Absolutely,” Cedric answered. “Go ahead and check them out.”

So Harry did. They both spent the next few minutes turning on one tap after another until the tub was filled with an assortment of bubbles in every shape, size, and color. While Harry thought the most entertaining tap was the one with the jet that bounced off the water’s surface in huge arcs, Cedric preferred one which let out a thick white foam that he insisted, to Harry’s disbelief, you could actually float on.

“You’re having me on,” Harry said. “There’s no way it could support your weight.”

“Are you saying I’m fat?” Cedric joked, causing Harry to flush with embarrassment. “You’re welcome to test it yourself, if you like.”

“I didn’t exactly come prepared for a swim,” Harry stated. “I mean, I don’t have a suit or anything.”

“Who says you need one?” Cedric asked, smiling suggestively.

Harry blushed even harder.

“Uhm, I don’t really…” Harry stammered. “I mean, I’m not sure if-if it’s a good idea….”

“Harry, relax,” Cedric said, placing a comforting hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. “I was only teasing. No pressure.”

“Right,” Harry replied. “No pressure.”

“Okay, so,” Cedric said, rubbing his hands together officiously. “First order of business: I need to wash my face. Could you grab me a towel? They’re in that corner over there.”

Harry nodded, then got up and headed for the corner Cedric gestured to, where he grabbed a towel from a neatly stacked pile. By the time he got back to the oversized tub Cedric had scrubbed away almost all of the ointment Madam Pomfrey had applied to his face. The skin underneath was slightly pink but otherwise completely cured. It made Harry’s stomach twinge to think what the burn must have looked before it healed.

“Here,” Harry said, offering the towel he’d picked up as he sat next to Cedric.

“Thanks,” Cedric said. He used the towel to wipe away the last few remnants of dried orange paste and dry off any bits of himself that he’d gotten wet in the process of washing up. When he finally finished he turned to Harry and asked expectantly, “Well? How do I look?”

“You look great!” Harry exclaimed. “Loads better. Not that you didn’t look fine before, even with that weird goop. I mean if anyone could pull off having a bunch of orange goop on their face and still looking good it would definitely be you, not that I would recommend doing it every day but—”

Suddenly there was another set of lips on Harry’s, halting any further rambling about Cedric starting a new trend of wearing orange gunk on your face. The kiss was quick, and left Harry breathless.

“What was…?” Harry started before realizing he couldn’t remember enough words at the moment to finish his sentence.

“Smiling isn’t the only thing I can do to keep you from babbling,” Cedric answered. He then added, “Plus I really wanted to kiss you again.”

“Oh,” Harry said simply. “Okay.”

With that, Harry reached over and kissed Cedric. It was soft and quick, and immediately followed by another, deeper one. Cedric leaned into him, wrapping his arms around the younger boy’s back as their kiss intensified. Harry brought a hand up to cup Cedric’s face.

“Ah!” Cedric cried, pulling away quickly.

“Sorry!” Harry said. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine,” Cedric said. “I guess my face is still a little sensitive though.”

“Oh, brilliant,” Harry groaned. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Cedric told him. “Besides, we should probably stop anyway.”

“Stop?” Harry said. “Am I … I mean, is it … not good?”

“No-no, no, the kissing was excellent,” Cedric said. “But I think we need to have a talk about what … what it means, if anything. I mean is this … is this, something?”

“Well, I’d definitely like to be, er, something,” Harry said. “That is, if you would.”

“Oh, I’d definitely, definitely like it to be something,” Cedric assured him. He wrapped an arm around the other boy, pulling him close. “I like you, Harry.”

“I like you, too,” Harry said, resting his head on Cedric’s shoulder. “I think I’ve liked you ever since that stupid Quidditch match last year. When you visited me in the hospital wing?”

“I remember,” Cedric said. “I was so scared when you woke up, I didn’t know **_what_** you would think of me being there.”

“To be honest, I was kind of confused,” Harry told him. “At the same time, though, I was happy to see you. Especially after I heard that you tried to call off the match. That was really great of you.”

“Well, it was an accident, you know?” Cedric said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry muttered. “If I hadn’t fallen off my broom, it would have been a fair game, I’ve certainly heard that enough times.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Cedric asserted. “The accident wasn’t you falling off the broom; it was me getting the Snitch.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry replied.

“Well, you remember what it was like that day, right?” Cedric said. “It was horrible out, torrential downpour. I could barely see the other players. It was only by sheer luck that I spotted the Snitch. It was moving slowly, for a Snitch anyway. I guess its wings were bogged down by the rain or something. I didn’t know where you were, I didn’t even give myself time to look, I just thought, _this is my chance!_ So I went for it and dove down after the thing. A few seconds before I reached it I heard this noise, but everything was so confused and I was moving so fast that I just figured it was a clap of thunder or something. It wasn’t until after I caught the Snitch that I realized it was the crowd crying out. I looked around and … and I saw you falling. You were already slowing down, because of that spell Dumbledore did, so I knew you would be okay, but … to see you falling like that ….”

Cedric paused. His voice had become slightly unfocused, like he was lost in his own memories. He cleared his throat before continuing.

“The point is if I had taken the time to look around and see where you were before going after the Snitch, I would have seen you fall. And if I had seen you fall, I would have gone after you instead. It was only by accident that I didn’t.”

“I had no idea,” Harry said softly.

“No one does,” Cedric told him. “That’s why I snuck out to visit you that night. I felt so horrible for not seeing you in time. I had to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m glad you did,” Harry said. “But then why did you avoid me afterwards?”

“I was scared,” Cedric admitted. “I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way about me as I felt about you and preferred not to find out if you didn’t. I thought you might even forget our visit. You know, think the whole thing was a dream or something. I was stunned when you brought it up at the World Cup.”

“I remember,” Harry said. “Merlin, that night was terrible. I was so worried about … well, everyone really. But you especially.”

“Me too,” Cedric said. “I wanted to try and find you but my dad confined me to our tent. When he finally got back and told me that they found you and your friends under the Dark Mark I didn’t know whether to be relieved or more worried.”

“I still can’t believe….” Harry trailed off, not wanting to sound too pathetic.

“What?” Cedric asked. Harry shook his head slightly. “No, tell me. Can’t believe what?”

“I just can’t believe … you were worried about me,” Harry said finally. “I can’t believe that we’re here. I guess I just can’t believe you like me.”

“Why is it so hard to believe?” Cedric asked.

“Because,” Harry said, “you’re Cedric, the Hufflepuff Hottie.”

“Oh, please tell me people don’t really call me that,” Cedric laughed.

“It’s true, though,” Harry insisted. He pulled away so he could look Cedric in the eye. “You’re handsome and popular and well-liked, and I’m … just … Harry.”

Cedric stared.

“You’re kind of a dope, you know that?”

“It’s been brought to my attention, yes,” Harry replied honestly. “That doesn’t make me any less right. I mean, you don’t even know anything about me. Except the usual famous Harry Potter dragonshit that everyone else does.”

“Is that what you think this is?” Cedric asked. “You think I only like you because of your scar and your past?”

“Do you?”

“Do you only like me because I’m the handsome and popular Hufflepuff Hottie?” the older boy asked dryly.

“No,” Harry responded immediately, “of course not.”

“Exactly,” Cedric said. He ran a hand through Harry’s unruly black hair. Harry leaned into the touch. “It’s true, we don’t know each other that well yet. But we will. Come here.” Cedric wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him close. “We’ll start slow, and work our way up, okay?” Harry nodded against Cedric’s chest. “Okay then. So … what’s your favorite color?”

“You really are starting slow, aren’t you?” Harry marveled.

“Just answer the question,” Cedric replied.

Harry pondered the question seriously before finally answering, “I don’t know. I like them all, really.”

“Oh come on!” Cedric cried. “That’s cheating!”

“I’m not cheating,” Harry said. “I just don’t have **_one_** favorite. What’s yours then, if it’s so easy to choose?”

“Green,” Cedric replied without delay. “Because it’s the color of leaves in spring, which my favorite season. And it’s the color of the Irish, who totally earned the World Cup this year. I wanted to magick my hair green for the match but I wasn’t of age at the time so I couldn’t.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Harry chuckled. “You would have looked ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but it would’ve been the festive kind of ridiculous,” Cedric said. “Also your eyes.”

“My eyes are festively ridiculous?”

“No, they’re green,” Cedric corrected. “That’s a good enough reason for it to be my favorite color all by itself.”

“I think if I **_had_** to choose one color I’d pick green, too,” Harry said.

“Cheater,” Cedric groused.

“No, really,” Harry protested. “I love color, any color, but green…. It’s probably the one I have the strongest connection with. I still remember when I got my first letter from Hogwarts. It was written in this emerald green ink. I had never seen a letter written in anything other than black, or maybe blue. But this was green. The same color as my eyes. And my mother’s. Right away I knew it was something special, and I was right. That letter told me more about who I was in one page than my aunt and uncle did in my entire life. It took me away from them and brought me here, to Hogwarts, where for the first time I was actually happy. So, yeah, if I had to pick, I’d pick green.”

Cedric smiled softly.

“See?” he said. “We have something in common already.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “I guess we do.”

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


They talked like that for hours, finding out their similarities and differences. It wasn’t until the sky behind the white linen curtains started to lighten that the two champions decided it was best to pack it in. Cedric insisted on walking Harry back to his common room even though his own was in the opposite direction. He held Harry’s hand the entire way there. They lingered a while in front of the sleeping portrait of the Fat Lady, giving each other a few too many goodbye kisses.

“You know if we stay here too long people are going to start coming out for breakfast,” Cedric said, arms wrapped around Harry’s waist.

“So we’ll give them a show with their meal,” Harry replied.

He tried to stifle a yawn, but didn’t do a very good job. Cedric laughed.

“You need to go sleep,” Cedric told him. “We’re both going to be exhausted tomorrow. Today. Whatever.”

“I know,” Harry said. He rested his forehead on Cedric’s chest for a moment, wishing he could just not move for an hour or two.

“Harry,” Cedric whispered. “Don’t fall asleep on me now.”

Harry groaned.

“All right, all right,” he grumbled. “One more kiss.”

Cedric complied, leaning in and kissing Harry deeply. Then he followed it up with another quick peck. And one more, just for good measure.

“Okay, I really have to go this time,” Cedric said, pulling away reluctantly. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Wait, one last thing,” Harry called. “I just remembered. Hermione said something to me yesterday about you telling people off for wearing those Support Cedric Diggory badges.”

Cedric grinned sheepishly.

“Yeah,” he said, “I didn’t want to run the risk of you seeing them and getting upset.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Harry said.

“Yeah,” Cedric replied. “I do.”

He gave a small wave and headed back toward the stairs.

Harry waited until Cedric was completely out of sight before waking the Fat Lady. It took some effort but he was finally able to rouse the painting enough for her to understand the password and let him into the tower. There were a few stragglers from the party who had fallen asleep in various positions around the common room. When Harry passed the clock on the way to his dormitory, he smirked.

 _I guess I’ll spare you,_ he thought to the clock. _For now, at least._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, I'm writing a book! Follow me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/misterkevo) and [Tumblr](http://misterkevo.tumblr.com) for updates!  
> 


	12. There's Always a Woman

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER TWELVE**

“There's Always a Woman”

  


“Harry,” Hermione whispered softly. “Harry!”

“Mumnifummnm?” Harry replied sleepily.

“Harry, wake up!” Hermione said, shaking the boy forcefully. Harry bolted upright in his seat.

“Present!” he cried.

“Yes, we can see that, Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall said from the front of the classroom.

Harry looked around blearily and found the professor glaring at him. In fact, every head was turned toward him. Harry would’ve thought he’d be used to this by now, but it still annoyed him to find an entire room staring in his direction. In this case, it was the unfortunate side effect of falling asleep and then waking up so abruptly in the middle of class.

“Now,” McGonagall continued, “if you don’t mind, I would like to continue telling the rest of your classmates about Cross-Species Transformation Spells.”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry responded obediently.

His face was a deeper shade of red than the tie he wore bearing Gryffindor’s colors. Ron leaned toward him.

“Dude,” he whispered, “what was that?”

“Harry’s been having a few too many late nights, if you ask me,” Hermione said.

“I didn’t,” Ron responded.

“Quiet, both of you,” Harry hissed. “I don’t want McGonagall to yell again.”

“Yeah, okay,” Hermione said, “like I’m really going to be yelled at by Professor McGonagall.”

“Miss Granger, hush,” McGonagall admonished.

“Yes, Professor,” Hermione said sweetly.

As soon as the professor’s back was turned she proceeded to poke Ron, who was stifling laughter.

Harry did his best to stay focused for the rest of the lesson but he could feel his attention drifting. Not that he did ask, but Hermione was right; he had been having a lot of late nights recently. Ever since their first date (yes, Harry was able to call it a date now with only a minimal amount of awkwardness), he and Cedric had been sneaking away every chance they could to get together. Unfortunately, the only time they could meet inconspicuously was in the dead of night.

At first they only saw each other every few days, not wanting to risk getting caught, but soon it became hard to stay away for so long. Lately it felt like every night they were meeting in the prefects’ bathroom. They would talk for hours, discussing everything from the frivolity of their obsession with Quidditch to the seriousness of Harry’s childhood abuse. Lulls in conversation were filled with a kiss or two or fifteen, but nothing more than that. They were both perfectly content to take things slow.

On most nights they stopped after an hour or two, though they were reluctant to do so. Cedric would walk Harry back to his dorm and they would remain there for a few more minutes before saying a final goodbye. On some nights, they got so caught up in their conversation that they didn’t notice the time until the sun had almost risen. Last night, Harry hadn’t gotten to bed until a little after four, and now he was paying the price for it.

 _It’s **completely** worth it, though,_ Harry thought with a sleepy grin.

He learned a lot about Cedric on their nights together. Cedric loved spicy foods. For almost a year when he was younger he refused to eat anything without first adding some pepper to it, which resulted in the name of his first dog. He had two. The first was a female Cocker Spaniel named Pepper that’d been with him since she was a pup. The second was a male Labrador Retriever that followed him home one day, earning it the apt name Stray.

He hated the nickname Ced because it’s what his dad called him, especially when he was boasting about what a perfect son Cedric was (“meaning all the time”). He chewed his bottom lip when he was nervous or stressed, to the point where, on occasion, he’d broken the skin.

Cedric’s favorite subjects were History of Magic and Muggle Studies. He wanted to go into Muggle relations after leaving Hogwarts. He told everyone it was because he got along with people so well, which would be an asset for such a career. It was true, but only half his reason. The other half was that he loved Muggle culture, because when he was little he had a best friend named Nathan who was a Muggle. Cedric actually begged his parents not to send him to Hogwarts so they wouldn’t be separated. They bought him an owl instead. He named it Bowman.

Harry relayed his own share of personal details as well. He told Cedric that his favorite thing about magic was the power of flight. He never felt freer than when he was flying and found anything with wings (dragons, hippogriffs, fairies, the Golden Snitch, etc.) exceptionally beautiful. Harry also revealed the identity of his previous crush, Cho Chang, the Seeker of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Cedric was oddly quiet when he brought this bit of information up, but Harry figured it would be uncomfortable to hear the person you’re dating to bring up their former crush and he quickly changed the subject.

Harry even confessed that he was taught about puberty when he was twelve by Hermione. She had taken it upon herself when she came to the accurate conclusion that there was no one else to teach him. (Ron tried, but his crude attempt at a lesson had left Harry with more questions than answers.) She was also the one to buy him his first stick of deodorant.

There were certain parts of his life that Harry was reluctant to divulge. Though they touched the subject briefly, Harry didn’t go into details on his history with Voldemort beyond what everyone in the wizarding world already knew. Also, Harry was reluctant to tell Cedric about Sirius. Even though they had grown closer over the past few weeks, he wasn’t sure how Cedric would take the truth about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. To be honest, he didn’t even know if Cedric would believe him. Ultimately, Harry decided to wait to reveal his godfather’s true nature, at least until he was sure that Cedric wouldn’t think he was crazy.

Despite the disruption of Harry’s outburst, class finished a few minutes early. Harry managed to overcome his fatigue and Transfigure his guinea pig into guinea fowl with only a minor amount of difficulty. The bell was minute from ringing and he and Ron were partaking in a rather childish duel using some of Fred and George’s joke wands when McGonagall announced the Yule Ball.

It was hard to understand everything the professor said over Lavender Brown’s obnoxious giggling (Harry felt extremely sorry for whatever poor sod ended up with her), but he got the general idea of it. The Yule Ball was a “traditional” part of the Triwizard Tournament. It would be held on Christmas Day, hence the name “Yule Ball”, and required that dress robes be worn, thus explaining why they had been told to bring them this year. Harry started tuning McGonagall out as she went on about “standards of behavior” and Gryffindor students needing to be exemplary. He was already thinking about how he could maintain a low profile so he and Cedric could sneak off early while everyone else was distracted by the festivities.

Harry suddenly realized how fast Christmas was approaching. Should he get something for Cedric? His instincts said yes. But what if he did get Cedric a present but Cedric didn’t get him anything? Harry’d look rather foolish then. Still, it was better than running the risk of Cedric giving him something and Harry having nothing to give in return. All confusing thoughts of Christmas and gift-giving came to a halt as the bell rang and students began filing out of the classroom.

“Potter,” Professor McGonagall said over the crowd, “a word, if you please.”

Harry groaned. Hermione gave him a look that clearly said _‘this is what you get for falling asleep then goofing off in class.’_ She and Ron shuffled out with the rest of their class while Harry trudged up to the professor’s desk alone.

“Are you feeling all right, Potter?” she asked once the room was empty.

“Excuse me?” Harry replied.

“Are you feeling all right?” McGonagall repeated. “You seem to be having difficulty since the first task. You’re tired, unfocused. Is the tournament putting too much of a strain on you?”

Harry was thrown by his seemingly harsh professor’s concern. Obviously McGonagall had a softer side he wasn’t aware of. Now Harry felt guilty for assuming she had called him up to tell him off.

“I’m fine, professor, really,” Harry assured her. “The first task took a lot out of me, but I’m sure I’ll be back to normal soon.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” McGonagall said. “Now, there is a matter I need to discuss with you, concerning the Yule Ball. As you may already know, the champions and their partners –”

“Partners?” Harry asked.

“Your **_dance_** partners,” McGonagall elaborated.

“Dance partners?” Harry said. “I don’t really … dance.”

“Yes, you do,” McGonagall pressed. “That’s what I’m telling you. The champions and their partners open the ball.”

“But, professor,” Harry said pleadingly. “I-I **_can’t_** dance. Really. I have two left feet. Five, even. I’m clumsy, and entirely ungraceful. I fear for those who would have to dance around me. Someone could lose a toe.”

“I’m touched by your concern, Potter,” McGonagall said drolly. “However, it is a risk we will have to take. This is a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament. You are a Hogwarts champion, and as such will do all that the title demands.”

“But— Professor –”

“You heard me, Potter,” McGonagall said flatly.

The sternness Harry was used to had returned to her voice. Harry nodded in defeat, and excused himself from the classroom.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


That night, while they filled the tub in the Prefect’s bathroom, Harry told Cedric about his embarrassing incident in Transfiguration. The boys rolled up their pant legs and sat side by side with their bare feet in the water.

“So you didn’t even get yelled at for falling asleep in class?” Cedric asked once Harry was finished. “McGonagall must really like you.”

“I guess,” Harry replied, watching his feet swish about under the water’s surface. “If she **_really_** liked me she wouldn’t make me dance at the stupid ball.”

“Not true,” Cedric insisted. “I got the same speech from Professor Sprout today. She said it was my duty as a champion and a Hufflepuff, or something like that.”

“This is so stupid,” Harry said. “I didn’t even want to be a champion, and now I have to jump through all these hoops just because someone else entered my name. I probably won’t even be able to get a date.”

“Are you kidding?” Cedric asked. “Come on! You’re Harry Potter. And you’re a school champion. **_And_** on top of all that you’re gorgeous.” Harry smiled. Cedric wrapped an arm around him and pulled the younger boy close. “I promise, you’ll be beating the girls off with a stick! Or else I will, to keep them away from **_my_** boyfriend.”

A warm feeling spread through Harry’s chest.

“Did you just call me your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Cedric said. “Why?”

“Nothing,” Harry replied. “It’s just … that’s the first time you’ve called me that.”

“Oh.” Cedric paused, then asked hesitantly, “Is that okay? That I said it?”

Harry nodded.

“I like the sound of it,” he admitted.

“Well, I like saying it,” Cedric said, placing a soft kiss on the top of Harry’s head. “Merlin, I would love to take you,” he muttered.

“To the ball, you mean?” Harry inquired.

“Er, right. Take you to the ball,” Cedric said unconvincingly. “That’s what I meant.”

“Dirty,” Harry snickered, catching the gist of Cedric’s jest. “I want you to take me, too. To the ball, that is,” he amended. Cedric grinned. “I don’t think it’s an option though. Have you given any thought to who you might actually ask?”

“Uhm, a bit, I guess,” Cedric replied. “What about you?”

“Not really,” Harry said. “I’ve never asked someone out before. I’ve only ever been asked,” he added, nudging Cedric playfully. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“It’s not as hard as it seems,” Cedric said reassuringly. “Just be yourself and you’ll do fine. Anyway, you’re making too big a deal about this whole thing. You’ve faced a Hungarian Horntail. The Yule Ball should be no sweat. It’s only a dance.”

Harry muttered something faintly in response.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know how to dance,” Harry repeated more audibly.

Cedric was quiet for a minute before saying, “I sort of know how to dance.”

“Thanks, rub it in,” Harry grumbled.

“No, Harry,” Cedric said. He pressed his mouth to the Gryffindor’s ear and whispered softly, “I meant, I can teach you to dance.”

“Oh,” Harry said. An irrepressible grin spread across his face at the thought of dancing with Cedric. “Uhm, okay.” Then he realized something. “Wait. Where would you teach me? Not here, right?”

“Hm, good point,” Cedric replied, taking a look around. “A bathroom’s not really the best place to learn how to dance. Oh well. We’ll find someplace. The ball is ages away. No reason to worry about it right now.” He smiled a bit mischievously, then leaned in to give Harry a quick peck.

“What was that for?” Harry asked.

Cedric shrugged.

“I just like you.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry replied, pulling the older boy in for another kiss.

And for some time Harry surrendered to the feeling of Cedric’s lips against his own.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


Over the next several days all anyone could talk about was the Yule Ball. The girls were all discussing what they’d be wearing and who they wanted to go with. The boys were commiserating over having to pluck up the courage to ask one of the girls. Harry himself had yet to ask anyone. Part of the reason was because there was no one he wanted to asked, and all the girls who asked him were complete strangers. The other reason for his trepidation was Cedric. It felt wrong somehow to be asking out a girl when they were together, even though he knew it didn’t mean anything.

The ball itself had become sort of a taboo subject between the boys. After their initial conversation the day it was announced, Cedric became increasingly uncomfortable every time Harry mentioned it. Especially when Harry tried to find out if Cedric had asked anyone. The older boy never said anything but Harry gathered from his evasion that the answer was yes, he had.

The anxious younger champion knew he shouldn’t be so worried about his newly titled boyfriend having a date for the ball. It wasn’t as though Cedric was likely to dump him for some girl. Cedric once revealed to Harry in one of their more personal conversations that he had no interest in girls whatsoever. He tried having sex with a girl once in his fourth year. He refused to go into details or reveal the girl’s identity, only saying that it was something he was not interested in repeating. Harry was tempted to ask Cedric if he had any sexual history with other males, but decided that he didn’t want to know. Not yet, anyway.

His concerns about the approaching Yule Ball were even further compounded by the fact that he and Cedric hadn’t started his dance lessons yet. Harry spent every spare moment poring over the Marauder’s Map in search of somewhere private enough for two boys to practice dancing together. As hard as he looked, he couldn’t find any place large enough that would guarantee them not being discovered.

With all of the work and worry he was putting into it, Harry was starting to feel that the Yule Ball was even more bothersome than the first task.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


The end of term was fast approaching and Harry still hadn’t managed the nerve to wrangle a date. He was sitting at breakfast one morning with Ron and Hermione, playing idly with his eggs, when he wondered out loud, “Do you think there’s a rule against two champions attending the Yule Ball together?”

“Why, are you planning on asking Fleur Delacour out as well?” Hermione replied absently, keeping her eyes fixed on the open book in front of her.

Ron frowned. He was still rather sore from being turned down by the French champion the previous night.

“Very funny, Hermione,” he sneered. “You give a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘cleverest witch in our year.’” He continued under his breath, “Or something that **_rhymes_** with witch, anyway.”

This last bit was not quite muted enough to evade being overheard, and prompted Hermione to kick Ron under the table. She closed her book and turned toward Harry.

“You know you two can’t go together,” Hermione told him.

“I do,” Harry answered. “That doesn’t make deciding who else to ask any easier.”

“What about Cho?” Ron asked, rubbing his freshly bruised shin. “You used to fancy her, didn’t you?”

Harry thought about this. He did used to fancy her. Not so much anymore, obviously. But was it okay for him to ask someone he once had feelings for now that he had Cedric? Especially since Cedric knew how Harry used to feel about Cho. Of course, the older boy wasn’t exactly being forthcoming about who he had invited. It might even serve him right for Harry to ask the girl Cedric knew he once had a crush on.

In the end, Harry decided to go for it. There was certainly no harm in asking, and even if she turned him down, it’s not like it mattered. He still had Cedric.

He said a quick goodbye to Ron and Hermione then set off in search of Cho. It didn’t take long to find her. Harry was so preoccupied wondering what he would say when he found her that he almost walked right past her. Cho was coming down the marble staircase with a group of friends while Harry was hurrying up it.

“Cho!” he said, coming back down the stairs after her. Cho turned.

“Hello, Harry,” she said, smiling.

 _She knows my name,_ Harry thought. _That’s a good sign._

“Could I have a word with you?” he asked. Cho’s friends giggled, making Harry understand why Hermione hated the Viktorias so much.

“Sure,” Cho replied, then followed him to one side of the staircase, away from her friends. “How are you?” she asked kindly.

“Good,” Harry replied. “Looking forward to the break. And you?”

“The same,” Cho answered. “Have you asked anyone to the ball yet?”

 _Blimey, she’s making this easy,_ Harry thought confidently.

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Harry said. “I was wondering if you’d go with me. To the ball.”

Cho didn’t say anything. She simply stared at Harry like he’d spoken in an entirely different language. For a moment Harry wondered if he’d accidentally slipped into Parseltongue without realizing it.

“Harry, I’m going with Cedric,” she said at last.

Harry’s insides plummeted. This wasn't at all the reaction he'd been expecting. Even a flat out "no" would have been better. Cedric? His boyfriend? And Cho? The girl he used to like? She had to be joking. But from the way she was staring, Harry knew she wasn't.

“Oh,” he replied. For reasons he couldn’t fully grasp at the moment, Harry felt absolutely mortified and wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock and die. “Okay. Uhm … I guess I’ll see you around then.”

He turned to walk as steadily as he could up the rest of the stairs but Cho grabbed his arm.

“Wait,” she said. Although Harry wanted to do anything but wait, he obeyed. “Cedric didn’t tell you that he’s taking me?”

“No,” Harry said abrasively. “Why should he?”

“He didn’t … so then you must not….” Cho blinked. “I’m sorry, Harry, will you excuse me?”

Harry nodded mutely. Cho smiled at him, then turned and hurried down the stairs.

So, it wasn’t exactly how Harry pictured asking a girl out for the first time. For one thing, he never thought she’d already have agreed to go out with his boyfriend. Harry didn’t know which made him angrier, the fact that he had just embarrassed himself in front of Cho, or that Cedric had asked her out when he knew Harry used to like her. And why did she think Cedric would have told him? Had Cedric told her about their situation? Why wouldn’t he inform Harry if he had?

All in all, the encounter left Harry about as confused and upset as when he first realized he had feelings for the Hufflepuff Hottie.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


Harry didn’t speak again until lunch, when he filled Ron and Hermione in on what happened. They agreed Cho’s behavior was strange but, probably responding to Harry’s demeanor, did not press the subject further. Instead, Hermione came up with some suggestions as to who he should ask instead. In between afternoon classes, Harry managed to ask Parvati Patil, who immediately said yes. He even got her to ask her sister, Padma, if she’d go with Ron.

He spent the entire day avoiding Cedric.

At dinner that night, Harry’s meal was interrupted by a tiny owl with golden colored feathers swooping down and dropping a note on his plate. Harry picked up the note, opened it and read the hastily scrawled words.

  


_Tonight. The bathroom. Usual time. I’ll explain everything. Please._

  


“You should go,” Hermione said after Harry showed her and Ron the note. Ron, who was in much better spirits now that he had a date for the ball, agreed with Hermione.

“At least hear him out,” Ron said.

“Besides,” Hermione added, “ ** _I_** need you to go.” Harry glanced up at her, puzzled. She smiled. “You still have to give him his S.P.E.W. badge.”

Harry stared at the piece of parchment in his hands. The words were written in green ink. He nodded, then folded the paper neatly and put it in his pocket.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


By the time Harry reached the prefects’ bathroom, Cedric was already waiting. The tub was not filled, which was probably an indication of the tense atmosphere of their meeting. Cedric smiled sheepishly as Harry closed the door behind him.

“You came,” Cedric said. Harry nodded. “I’m glad you did.” The boys stared awkwardly at each other for a minute. “So, Cho tells me you spoke with her today,” Cedric said finally.

“Yes,” Harry replied bitterly. The anger he had felt early started to rise up again. “Why?” he asked. “Why did you ask her, after I told you I liked her?”

“It’s more complicated than that, Harry,” Cedric told him. “Besides, what should it matter? You don’t still like her. Do you?”

“No,” Harry responded immediately. “What do you mean it’s complicated?”

Cedric sighed.

“Remember when I told you about that girl that I was with in my fourth year?” he asked, eyes downcast. “The one that I tried to … to be with? It was Cho.”

Harry’s stomach lurched.

“And now you’re taking her to the ball,” he said.

“It’s not like that,” Cedric argued. “Cho and I are just friends. When I was in my fourth year, I started to worry that I was— that I might be gay. I knew Cho liked me, and I thought she was nice, so I asked her out. Because I wanted to be sure. We dated for a while, and it was fun. She made me happy. But I still felt like there was something missing. Some spark. After a few months she said we should … that she wanted to have sex. I think … she knew there was something wrong. She thought that if we had sex, then maybe it would, I dunno … fix it. I thought it would, too. Fix it. Fix me. So I said yes. Then when we actually … I **_tried_** , I just … I couldn’t. We were right in the middle … and I couldn’t.”

Cedric swallowed, hard. The next breath he drew was shaky.

“She told me it was all right, that it didn’t matter. Then the next day she asked me if I might be gay. And I started to cry. I was terrified that she would tell everyone. But she didn’t. She just … she just held me. And she told me that it was okay.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “She’s the only person who knows about me, other than you, Ron, and Hermione. Until you came along, I never had any reason to tell. I know I should have told you about her, but when you said you used to like her, I didn’t know how you would react.”

“I know what you mean,” Harry said, his own secret about Sirius Black flashed across his mind.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Harry,” Cedric said. “I never wanted to do that. I’m so sor—”

Before the word was fully formed, Harry’s arms were wrapped around Cedric’s waist and he was muttering, “It’s okay,” into the older boy’s chest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t give you the benefit of the doubt,” Harry said. “You’ve certainly earned it.”

“Thank you,” Cedric replied. He wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled the younger boy closer. He grinned. “Hey, Harry? Is there something in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Actually, there’s something in my pocket,” Harry answered.

“Oh,” Cedric said flatly. “What is it?”

“Your badge for S.P.E.W.,” Harry explained, pulling it out and handing it to Cedric. “You know, Hermione’s ‘free the house-elves’ club? She asked me to bring it to you. Sort of her way of encouraging me to come tonight.”

“Remind me to thank her,” Cedric said. It occurred to Harry that he wasn’t referring to the badge.

The boys embraced again and fell silent. After a few moments, Cedric started swaying them slowly back and forth.

“Harry?” he said.

“Yes?”

“This is sort of like dancing,” Cedric said.

“I don’t know what I was so worried about,” Harry replied. “I just wish we could find somewhere to **_actually_** practice.”

Cedric laughed.

“We could always ask a house-elf,” he said, flashing his S.P.E.W. badge. “They probably know every inch of this castle.”

Harry stopped swaying. A thought had suddenly come to him.

“Is something wrong?” Cedric asked.

“No,” Harry said. “I just got a brilliant idea, actually.”

“What is it?”

Harry leaned up and captured Cedric’s mouth with his own.

“I’ll tell you later,” he mumbled against the older boy’s lips.

Cedric nodded, and kissed Harry again. Everything else could wait.

  



	13. Dancing Through Life

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

“Dancing Through Life”

  


Harry daydreamed all through History of Magic the next morning. This wasn’t entirely unusual for him, especially on the last day of classes before Christmas break. The only difference was that Harry had a specific subject to focus on. He was trying to decide when he should to enact his plan. If he waited until Cedric could go with him, it’d have to wait until tomorrow or the next day. Maybe it would be better to go without him anyway. If his idea didn’t pan out, Harry didn’t want to have Cedric be disappointed. The young champion was so busy thinking about his own personal task that he didn’t notice class was over until Ron tapped him on the shoulder.

“Let’s go, mate,” Ron said.

 _I should go now,_ Harry realized as he followed Ron and Hermione out of the History of Magic classroom.

There was a break before Charms. If he didn’t do it now, he wouldn’t be able to until lunch or, even worse, after dinner. And then Harry’d have to sit through a whole session of Double Potions with lingering doubts about his plan weighing heavily on his mind. While Ron and Hermione headed for Gryffindor Tower , Harry wandered off in the opposite direction, back toward the marble staircase that led to the ground floor.

“Harry?” Hermione called after him. “Where are you going?”

“There’s something I need to do,” Harry told her. “You both can go on ahead without me. I’ll be back before Charms.”

“Are you sure?” Ron asked. “We could come with you.”

Harry was about to tell them that, yes, he was sure, he would be fine on his own, when he noticed the looks on their faces. They looked almost … hopeful. Like they **_wanted_** him to invite them along. Harry was aware that he’d been spending less time with his friends since he and Cedric began seeing each other. He just hadn’t thought about how it might be affecting them. Judging from their demeanors, they seemed to miss him. And, now that he thought about it, Harry certainly missed them. As happy as Harry was with Cedric, Hermione and Ron were still his first and best friends. They deserved better than that.

“You know,” he said finally, “I think I **_could_** use the company.”

Ron and Hermione smiled, and the three began walking together.

“So what is this secret mission, anyway?” Ron wondered as they proceeded down the stairs.

“Well,” Harry began, “you know the Yule Ball is coming up.”

“Yes,” Ron and Hermione both mumbled, shooting daggers at each other. They were still at odds over the ball, with Hermione refusing to divulge her date’s identity.

“Right, moving on,” Harry said quickly. “I told Cedric that I don’t really know how to dance, and he promised that he’d teach me. The problem is he can’t exactly do it in the prefects’ bathroom.”

“I’m glad you realize that,” said Hermione.

As they came to the ground floor, Harry went left and headed through the door next to the marble staircase. Ron and Hermione followed as he led them down another flight of stairs.

“And so,” Harry continued, “I’ve been spending every minute I can get searching for a place.”

“Harry, isn’t this the way to the kitchens?” Ron interrupted.

“Spot on, Ron,” Harry replied, grinning at his inadvertent rhyme. “I’ve looked and looked all over the Marauder’s Map, but I haven’t been able to locate anywhere we can use. I was on the verge of giving up when it dawned on me. I know exactly who to ask about the castle.”

“Who?” Hermione asked as they approached the fruit bowl painting that concealed the kitchen’s entrance.

Harry turned to her and smiled.

“Dobby,” he answered simply.

Harry reached up and tickled the pear in the silver bowl. The tiny fruit giggled and quaked before emitting a sharp popping sound and turning into a doorknob. Harry twisted it and pulled, holding the door for his two friends. Ron and Hermione passed through the opening, with Harry close behind. Within seconds Harry was greeted by a house-elf wearing a tea cozy as a hat wrapping its arms around his waist.

“Harry Potter, sir!” the tiny creature squealed. “Dobby never thought he would be seeing you again so soon!”

“It’s good to see you, too, Dobby,” Harry replied as he attempted to pry the elf’s long fingers off his robes. “How have you been doing?”

“How kind of Harry Potter to ask!” Dobby exclaimed, his eyes watering slightly with barely contained joy. “Dobby is doing very well. Very, very well! He is looking forwards to his first ever Christmas at Hogwarts! We house-elves is starting to prepare already!”

Outwardly, Harry smiled at the elf’s enthusiasm. However, all of Dobby’s talk about the holiday’s rapid approach only reminded Harry that he still hadn’t decided what to do about Cedric and Christmas. Perhaps he would ask Hermione later what she thought he should do. For now, he had other things to worry about.

“That’s great, Dobby,” Harry said. “Listen, I wanted to ask you something. A bit of a favor, actually.”

“Dobby would be honored to perform any favor Harry Potter should ask of him!” Dobby cried, hopping from foot to foot eagerly. “Dobby would walk on hot coals if Harry Potter was asking him to!”

“That really won’t be necessary,” Harry told him forcefully. “I just wanted to ask you something about the castle. You see, my friend Cedric and I –”

“Cedric?” Dobby interrupted. “Is you meaning to say Cedric Diggory?”

“Er, yeah,” Harry replied, taken aback, “I am, actually.”

“If he is friends with Harry Potter,” Dobby said in awe, “then he must be an even greater wizard than Dobby was thinking.”

“Wait a minute, how do you know—”

“Harry,” Hermione cut in. “We’ve only got so much time here.”

“Right,” Harry replied, brushing the elf’s strange revelation aside. “What I was going to say was, we sort of have to, er, practice something. For the tournament,” he added hastily. It was almost true. “We need a space for this, somewhere with complete privacy. I’ve looked, but I can’t seem to find anywhere that guarantees we won’t be found. Is there someplace you can think of that we could use?”

Dobby pondered this for a moment. It was a long shot to begin with, so Harry wasn’t expecting much. Still, it was also his last hope. If Dobby couldn’t come up with something, Harry may never learn how to dance. He was starting to consider faking sick on the night of the Yule Ball when the house-elf finally answered.

“There is one place not many people is knowing about,” Dobby said. “We house-elves calls it the Come and Go Room, or the Room of Requirement.”

“Room of Requirement?” Hermione repeated. “I’ve never heard of it before.”

“It is very much a secret room,” Dobby told them. “Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not. Peoples can only enter when they has a real needing of it. When they do, the room is always having what they needs.”

“Dobby,” Harry said, “how can I find this room?”

“Dobby can show you,” Dobby answered, his ears perking up excitedly. “We could go now!”

“I don’t think it’s such a good idea, Harry,” Hermione said softly. “We don’t have a lot of time left before Charms.”

Harry paused. He was actually contemplating going with Dobby, in spite of his Charms class. He wanted to see this strange room, make sure it was right for what he and Cedric needed. Then Harry remembered the conversation he’d had with Professor McGonagall last week, when he fell asleep in class. He couldn’t keep letting his relationship with Cedric overrule everything else in his life. Irritating though it may be, class outranked boyfriend.

“Hermione’s right,” Harry decided. “Dobby, can you just give me directions on how to find the room so I can look for it later?”

The house-elf deflated slightly, sad that he wouldn’t be able to tag along, but agreed. He told Harry, Ron, and Hermione where the room was located and how to make it appear. They thanked him and set off toward their common room, chatting about what Dobby told them.

“I’ve never seen any mention of a Come and Go Room in Hogwarts: A History,” Hermione informed them, “or a Room of Requirement.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” Ron hypothesized. “Dobby did say the room was a secret. That’s probably why Harry couldn’t find it anywhere on the map either.”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said suspiciously. “We’re laying a lot of faith in a creature that spent the better part of a year putting Harry in mortal danger.”

“To be fair, he was trying to protect me,” Harry pointed out. “That doesn’t really make it any better, though, does it?”

“Maybe we should come with you when you try to find it,” Hermione suggested.

“Do we have to?” Ron said. “No offense, Harry, but I’m not too keen on joining a mad quest to find a room that might not exist just so you can, er, play Quidditch,” he finished, slipping into their secret code as they passed a group of second year girls on the marble staircase.

“This isn’t about Quidditch,” Harry insisted. “I just need to practice dancing for the Yule Ball. And you don’t have to come, I’ll just bring Cedric with me.”

“Why don’t we come anyway?” Hermione proposed. “After all, you and Cedric are … are Quidditch partners now, so maybe Ron and I should get to know him a little better.”

That notion stopped Harry in his tracks.

True, Ron and Hermione were aware that he was dating a boy. And also true, Cedric knew that they knew. But somehow the idea that his friends might meet his boyfriend had never crossed Harry’s mind. He didn’t really know what to make of it. Now that Hermione had brought it up, it seemed almost inevitable that it would happen eventually. If Harry wanted to keep spending time with all of them, he would have to bring together both aspects of his life. A part of him wanted desperately to keep them separate for just a little while longer, but seeing that nervous look on Hermione’s face while she waited for his answer made him relent.

“I guess so,” Harry agreed at last. “I mean, if it’s all right with him.”

“We don’t have to stay for the dancing, do we?” Ron groaned.

“Although I’m sure you could use a pointer or two,” Hermione said coolly, “I think it might make Harry and Cedric uncomfortable for us to be there for that.”

“Well, you think right,” Harry declared.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


At lunch, Harry covertly slipped Cedric a note as they passed each other in the Great Hall. It was short, only two sentences, written in bright green ink. It said:

  


_Found a place. Meet in entrance hall after dinner._

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


“So, your plan was to ask a house-elf who thinks you’re the second coming if he has any idea where we can practice dancing?” Cedric recapped once Harry was finished filling him in on that morning’s events.

They’d met in the entrance hall, as Harry instructed, and set off at once. It took nearly four flights of stairs for Harry to fully explain his relationship with Dobby.

“Essentially, yes,” Harry replied.

“I can’t help but notice how much your idea sounds like my idea,” Cedric said lightly.

“Yes, but when you said it you were joking,” Harry countered. “I, on the other hand, am not joking.”

“Did it work?” Cedric asked.

“I’m not sure,” Harry admitted.

“What do you mean?”

“The place Dobby directed me to is sort of sketchy,” Harry explained. “I wasn’t able to check it out earlier, so Ron and Hermione are going to meet us where Dobby said it would be, and then we’ll see if it actually exists.”

“Ron and Hermione?” Cedric repeated.

“Yeah, I told them they could come,” Harry said, looking over at the other boy. “Is that okay?”

“Sure,” the older boy answered. “As long as I’m not expected to teach them to dance as well. Hermione, maybe, but Ron? He seems like a hopeless case to me, plus he’s not really my type.”

“I’m glad to hear **_that_** ,” Harry laughed. “And don’t worry, Hermione promised they’d leave before we got started.”

“Good,” Cedric said, reaching out to give Harry’s hand a quick squeeze. “I want at least a little time to have you all to myself tonight.”

Harry blushed and glanced around quickly to see if there had been any witnesses to Cedric’s display of affection. There hadn’t.

They were starting to get sloppy. Not-so-subtle glances at each other in the Great Hall and the corridors followed by knowing grins that they barely fought to conceal, passing notes, making excuses to pull each other aside so they could share an elicit kiss. If they weren’t careful, they would get caught, sooner rather than later. Harry knew he should say something.

 _Not tonight,_ Harry thought.

Tonight was about Cedric meeting his friends. All other concerns would have to wait.

In almost no time at all, they arrived at the seventh floor. They walked along the quiet corridor to where Hermione and Ron were waiting. Hermione was flipping through Hogwarts: A History, probably still looking for some reference to the Room of Requirement, while Ron was examining an old tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach a group of trolls to dance the ballet. Oddly appropriate, considering what they were there for. Ron and Hermione both looked up when they heard Harry and Cedric coming.

“Hey,” Hermione said brightly.

“Hello,” Cedric replied. “How are you two?”

“All ready for this wild Snidget chase,” Ron muttered, watching Barnabas get a club upside the head for his troubles.

“What does that mean?” Harry asked.

“I believe Ron is referring to the location of this alleged Come and Go Room,” Hermione answered.

She shut her book and gestured at the wall opposite the tapestry she was sitting under. There was a window and a large vase, and nothing but blank wall in between. If there was a room here, it was certainly wasn’t showing.

“Everyone else sees that there’s nothing there,” Cedric said plainly. “Right?”

“It’s there,” Harry asserted. “It’s just hiding.”

“Well, how do we make it stop hiding?” Cedric queried.

“According to Dobby,” Hermione explained as she rose to her feet, “we need to walk past this stretch of wall three times while concentrating on what it is that we need. Once we’re finished, a door should just **_appear_** in the wall.” She glanced down at her closed book and added, “At least it’s supposed to.”

“Are you doubting Dobby?” Harry challenged.

“Yes,” Hermione responded flatly. “But since we’re already here, we might as well try it.”

“That’s the spirit, Hermione!” Cedric said pleasantly. He rubbed his hands together and looked intently at the empty wall. “Now, how do you suggest we go about doing this?”

“What do you mean?” asked Harry.

“Well, we should probably all be thinking the same thing, right?” Cedric elaborated. “You know, while we’re doing the concentrating.”

“Good point,” Hermione agreed. “But what should we use?”

“Why not simply ‘we need a place for Harry and Cedric’?” Ron suggested. “It’s vague, but it meets the needs. Plus the room’ll probably still provide whatever you need once you’re inside.”

The others stared at him.

“That’s actually a really good idea,” Hermione said, sounding slightly amazed.

“Well don’t sound so surprised!” Ron shouted in a huff. “I’ve been known to have quite a few of them.”

“I have no doubt,” Cedric said sincerely. Hermione gave a muffled scoffing noise in response, and Ron glared at her. “Okay,” Cedric pressed on before an argument could erupt, “shall we then?”

They all nodded. Harry took a deep breath and moved forward, beginning the three paces. The others followed his lead. Ron’s face was screwed up tightly. Hermione whispered mutely to herself. Cedric chewed his lip with his head bowed. Harry clenched and unclenched his fists. They would have been an odd sight to behold had anyone come across them. No one looked at the wall as they passed. By the time they started their third lap, there was still no indication that anything was going to happen. There was no noise, no flash of light, nothing to suggest that a room would appear out of thin air.

 _Come on, please work,_ Harry thought to himself. _Give us a place, a place for me and Cedric, somewhere we can practice, please…._

“Whoa,” Cedric said suddenly.

They faced the wall after their final turn. Without any sort of warning, a door had appeared. It was made of dark, highly polished wood with a shiny brass handle. All of them, even Harry, were staring at the door in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Harry concurred, taking a step toward the door. “Whoa.”

He grabbed the handle and slowly, cautiously pushed the door open. One by one they went inside.

The room was half the size of an average classroom. A chandelier shined down from overhead. It was the same brass as the door’s handle. The walls were mirrored with tall marble columns that reached the ornately painted ceiling. The floor was made of paneled wood. In the far corner stood a table, with a stereo and a stack of CDs.

“Are you serious?” Cedric exclaimed, striding across the room. He immediately began sorting through the music that the room had provided.

“What are those?” Ron asked curiously.

“CDs,” Cedric told him. “Compact Discs. They’re sort of like records, only newer and smaller. They play music. Aha!” Cedric beamed at the album he was holding. He pulled out the disc and popped it into the player.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Hermione wondered. “There isn’t even a plug.”

She was answered by extremely loud rock music blasting through the stereo’s speakers.

“Excellent!” Cedric grinned.

“What is this?” Ron asked. “It’s pretty good.”

“It’s called ‘Two Princes’ by the Spin Doctors,” Cedric said as he nodded to the beat. “They’re a Muggle band. Pretty decent.”

“How do you know about all this Muggle stuff anyway?” Ron inquired. “You’re not a Muggle-born.”

“No, but I used to have a friend who was a Muggle,” Cedric explained. “I was always fascinated by the stuff they could come up with. I even want to go into Muggle Relations someday.”

“You should meet my dad,” Ron said. “He thinks Muggles are total geniuses or something.”

“Aren’t they?” Cedric countered. “I mean, sure, their inventions may seem a bit backward to us. But think about the things they’ve accomplished. They’ve invented huge flying machines that can carry vast amounts of people across great distances in a matter of hours, all without magic! It took them sixty-six years to go from the first successful flight to landing on the moon. They wield such unimaginable power, all without even touching a wand. It’s amazing. Terrifying, sometimes, but amazing.”

Ron shrugged.

“I guess you’ve got a point,” he conceded. “But I still think they’re a bunch of nutters.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cedric smirked. “That’s the best part.”

They laughed. Harry and Hermione exchanged a significant look. They both knew that, of Harry’s two friends, Ron was the one to worry about not liking Cedric. Either Ron was doing a very good job of pretending, or he was actually getting along with his best friend’s boyfriend.

“This is so weird,” Cedric said as he looked through the stack of CDs again. “This is almost my exact music collection from home. It’s like the room knew or something.”

“It’s definitely helpful,” Harry said. “Do you have everything you need to finally teach me how to dance?”

“Probably,” Cedric answered. “The question is, are you ready to learn?”

“I think so,” Harry asserted.

His mind flashed over every ‘dancing with Cedric’ scenario he had imagined ever since the older boy had offered to teach him. He flushed slightly because Ron and Hermione were still standing there. No matter how many times he had pictured this moment, he never thought they would be there to witness it. Hermione seemed to sense Harry’s discomfort and decided to speak up.

“Well, we might as well be going,” Hermione said. She grabbed Ron’s arm and began dragging him toward the door. “Lots of homework to do, you know.”

“Hermione, it’s the last day of term,” Ron objected. “We have all of break to worry about homework!”

“Still, better to get an early start, right?” she replied tersely. Her grip on his arm tightened to the point looked almost equally painful for both of them.

“Ow!” Ron shouted. “Okay, fine! Homework it is! See you guys later,” he called behind him as Hermione shoved through the doorway.

“Try not to stay out too late, okay?” Hermione said. “You brought the cloak just in case, right?”

Harry waved his bundled invisibility cloak at her. At Hermione’s insistence, he had begun bringing it with him every time he and Cedric met as a precaution. He never used it, but brought it anyway to placate the motherly girl.

“Good,” she said. She smiled and added, “Have fun, you two.”

Hermione closed the door behind her, leaving Harry and Cedric alone in the Room of Requirement.

“So those are my friends,” Harry said.

“They’re great,” Cedric beamed. “I really liked them.”

“You’re not just saying that to be nice, are you?” Harry asked.

“Of course not,” Cedric insisted, wrapping his arms around the shorter boy. “I’m really glad I got to meet them. Now you just need to meet Cho.”

Harry grunted noncommittally. He still wasn’t used to the idea that his former female crush was the only girl his boyfriend had ever been with. In light of this, he didn’t know how comfortable he would be hanging out with her. But Cedric **_had_** agreed to meet his friends, so Harry knew he would have to do that same eventually. Cedric lowered his head so that his and Harry’s foreheads were touching.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Harry nodded.

“Okay, let me restart the song,” Cedric said.

He went back to the stereo and pushed one of its buttons. The speakers blared a quick drum solo, followed by a guitar, signaling the start of the song Cedric had played before. ‘Two Princes’ he called it.

“I like this song,” Harry told him.

“Me too,” Cedric said. “Okay, dancing. Not as hard as you may think. It’s all about moving with the music. First you need to move your feet, like this.” Cedric demonstrated by shuffling his feet to the rhythm. “Try it. And **_don’t_** think about it too much, just let it happen naturally.”

Harry watched Cedric’s feet for another moment before attempting to mimic his actions. He tried, but he didn’t feel that he was exactly on the beat.

“That’s good,” Cedric insisted. “You’re doing great. Now move other parts of your body, too. Hips, arms, shoulders, head. Whatever feels like moving, let it. Watch me.”

The rest of Cedric joined in with his feet, swaying to the sound of the music. Harry followed his lead but couldn’t help feeling a little silly.

“I look stupid,” Harry shouted over the guitar solo.

“Not even!” Cedric said back. “You look great, especially for a beginner.”

He grabbed Harry’s hand and twirled him around. Much to Harry’s surprise, he recovered quite gracefully. They both laughed.

They practiced for a few more songs, with Cedric giving Harry a crash course in Muggle pop music along the way. Once Harry felt comfortable enough, the Hufflepuff boy decided it was time to move on to slow dancing. He placed a new CD into the stereo. A slower, softer melody came out of the speakers.

“Okay,” Cedric began, “this is going to be a little tricky because you’re going to have to lead and I’m not used to that. But we’ll try. Come here.” He held his hands out for Harry. The other boy took them. “All right, now. I want you to put your left hand on my waist.”

“I bet you do,” Harry quipped.

“Don’t distract me any further than you already are by being naturally gorgeous,” Cedric shot back. “Now, you put your hand on my waist, yes, like that, and I put my right hand on your shoulder. Then you hold out my right hand in your left, like this.” He took Harry’s hand. “There. This is probably a good position to use for the opening dance at the ball. It’s less, er, **_intimate_** than some other ones.”

“Trying to keep me from getting too intimate with my date?” Harry asked.

“You know it,” Cedric replied. “Okay. So, slow dancing is much easier than fast, except with slow dancing you have to worry about treading on your partner’s feet. I’m going to lead for a minute so you can see what you need to do, but then I want you to take over so you can get the hang of it. Sound good?”

“Yep,” Harry said. “Let’s get started.”

Cedric began slowly at first. He held Harry close and pulled the younger boy along as he moved this way and that. Harry kept his eyes fixed on their feet, trying to memorize the steps Cedric made. Left, right-left. Right, left-right. Left, right-left. Right, left-right. One, two-three. One, two-three. One, two-three, over and over.

“Do you think you’re ready to take the lead?” Cedric asked as a new song started.

“I’ll try,” Harry said apprehensively.

Concentrating on the movements he had seen Cedric make, Harry began leading. Right, left-right. Left, left- no! right-left. Right, left-right. Left, right-left. One, two-three. One, two-three. Yes, one, two-three, over and over.

“You’re doing great, Harry!” Cedric reassured him. He pressed his forehead to Harry’s again. “Wanna try it without looking at your feet now?”

Harry looked up into Cedric’s warm gray eyes. This immediately resulted in Harry losing his concentration and stepping on Cedric’s toe.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it,” Cedric chuckled. He started humming with the music.

“I like this song, too,” Harry said. “What’s it called?”

“‘Save the Last Dance for Me’,” Cedric answered. He sang along with the words, “ _But don’t forget who’s taking you home, and in whose arms you’re gonna be. So darlin’, save the last dance for me._ ”

“You’re good,” Harry told him.

“So are you,” Cedric replied.

“I meant you have a nice voice,” Harry clarified.

“I know,” Cedric said. “I just meant you’re good.”

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


After a few more songs, the boys decided to pack up for the night. They took one last look around the room before leaving and closing the door behind them. They glanced back after a few steps and found the wall was blank once more.

“It really is a Come and Go Room, isn’t it?” Harry marveled.

Cedric nodded. Then, as usual, he walked Harry to the entrance of his dormitory.

“So that was pretty good for a first lesson,” Cedric said as their entwined hands swung back and forth between them. “You’re a quick study.”

“Sometimes,” Harry permitted. “Still, I think I could use a few more lessons.”

“Oh, absolutely!” Cedric concurred. “You know, just to make sure you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Of course,” Harry grinned. “And maybe make out a little bit in the process.”

Cedric gasped.

“Why, Mr. Potter,” he gaped. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Harry draped Cedric’s arm across his shoulders.

“You know it.”

  



	14. One More Sleep 'Til Christmas

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

“One More Sleep ‘Til Christmas”

  


“No, Harry!” Cedric cried. “ ** _You’re_** supposed to be leading!”

“Dammit!”

Harry pulled angrily away from his boyfriend and newly appointed dance instructor. He stomped over to the couch that the Room of Requirement had provided and dropped down on it in frustration. This was Harry’s third dance lesson in as many nights. He had gotten much better at moving with the beat and stepping at the right time, but he kept inadvertently allowing Cedric to take the lead when they practiced dancing as a pair.

“I’m never going to get this!” Harry sulked.

“Of course you are,” Cedric said as he sat beside the sullen boy. “You’ve gotten really good in a short amount of time. The only thing you’re having trouble with is leading, and we still have a few days to work on that.”

“I can’t help it,” Harry said in his defense. “You’re all bigger than me and everything, it just feels natural to let you take the lead.”

“I’m going to take that ‘bigger than you’ remark as a compliment,” Cedric quipped.

“You know what I mean,” Harry said.

“I do,” Cedric replied. He thought for a moment, and then said, “That’s the problem with two boys dancing. It’s harder to tell which one should be leading. Not like with a guy and a girl.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Unfortunately, that’s all we have: two boys.”

“Maybe,” Cedric said slowly. “Or maybe not.”

Harry looked at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we know girls,” Cedric explained. “There’s no reason we couldn’t ask one of them to help us out here.”

“I don’t know,” Harry said uncertainly. “Hermione’s not the ideal person to ask for help with this kind of thing. She’d probably use technical jargon and a really thick book. That’s great for homework, but for dancing? That pretty much sucks the fun right out of it.”

“What about Cho?”

Those three small words were all it took to make Harry freeze. Cedric had been not-so-subtly been hinting that he wanted Harry to meet his best friend ever since Cedric had met Harry’s. Of course, Harry spending time with Cho was very different from Cedric meeting Ron and Hermione. Not only was she Harry’s last crush before Cedric, but she was also the only girl Cedric had ever attempted to have sex with. Cedric had a much cleaner slate when he was meeting Harry’s friends.

And now Cedric wanted Harry to learn how to dance from her? Cedric barely spent ten minutes with Ron and Hermione. That wasn’t…

 _Wasn’t what? Fair?_ Harry thought to himself. _You’re really going to be that childish about this?_

He **_was_** being a little childish. If he wanted to continue seeing Cedric, Harry was going to have to meet with Cho eventually. That meant putting the past aside and recognizing that, no matter what might have happened before, he was with Cedric now and that was all that mattered.

“Harry?” Cedric asked. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” Harry said finally. “I was just thinking.”

“If you’re not comfortable with—” Cedric began.

“No, it’s fine,” Harry interrupted. “Do you really think she would do it?”

“Are you kidding?” Cedric chuckled. “Cho lives for this kind of thing. She’s a total fag hag.”

Harry frowned.

“What’s that?” he asked. Cedric stared at Harry like he couldn’t decide whether he thought the other boy was joking or not. Then he laughed. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Cedric said. He reached out and gently brushed some hair across his boyfriend’s forehead. “I sometimes forget how young you are.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Harry wondered nervously.

“No,” Cedric answered. “Not at all. In a lot of ways, you’re actually more mature than most of the guys in my year. It makes it easy to forget that there are still lots things you don’t know yet.” He pulled the younger boy close and continued, “But that’s why you’ve got me.”

“So now you’re my mentor as well as my boyfriend?” Harry said, settling into the Hufflepuff’s embrace. “Wonderful.”

“Hey, do you realize what this Thursday is?” Cedric said suddenly.

“Of course,” Harry responded. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“And…?” Cedric said.

“And the last day I have to learn how to dance properly,” the younger boy complained.

“Aaand…?”

“Aaand, I don’t know!” Harry said. “The twenty-fourth?”

“And what happened last month on the twenty-fourth?” Cedric asked with barely contained eagerness.

“Uh, you got your ass kicked by a dragon?”

“I did not get my ass kicked by a dragon, I only got a little burned,” Cedric responded tersely. “And that’s not what I meant. What happened that night?”

Now Harry started to understand.

“We had our first date,” he said, a smile slowly creeping across his face.

“Exactly,” Cedric confirmed. “Making this Thursday our one month anniversary.”

“Oh,” Harry said impassively.

The panic Harry had been feeling over what to do for Cedric for Christmas just doubled. He **_really_** had no idea what to do for an anniversary.

“We don’t have to do anything about it,” Cedric said quickly, picking up on Harry’s unease. “I kinda thought it was, I dunno, neat or something. No big deal.”

Harry sat up and looked Cedric in the eye.

“It is a big deal,” he said forcefully. “I’ve just never had an anniversary before. I don’t really know how all of this works; anniversaries, Christmas, it’s so complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Cedric told him. He pulled Harry to his chest again and asked, “And what did you mean about Christmas?”

“I couldn’t decide whether I should get you something,” Harry muttered into the other boy’s torso.

“You don’t have to get me anything,” Cedric assured him.

“But I want to!” Harry insisted. “I just wasn’t sure if we were doing a gift exchanging thing, you know? I didn’t want to look silly, being the only one to get the other something. Not that you have to get me anything, because, you don’t.”

“Am I going to have to do that thing where I kiss you to keep you from babbling?” Cedric asked. “If it helps at all, I already got you something. Sort of a combination Christmas and anniversary present.”

“Oh,” Harry said. He grinned. “So what’d you get me?”

“Yeah, right!” Cedric scoffed. “Like I’m really going to tell you.”

“Oh, come on!” Harry cried. “I’d tell you!”

“Well, that’s the difference between us,” Cedric replied. “I wouldn’t even ask. I’d much rather be surprised. You’ll find out what it is when I give it to you.”

“All right, all right,” Harry relented. “So the gift thing is definitely a go then. Okay. When should we exchange, though, Thursday or Friday?”

“Hmmm, good question,” Cedric mused. “Well, we could come back here after the Yule Ball and do it then. That way, if the whole thing is dreadful, we’ll still be able to cap off the evening with something nice.”

“Something to look forward to, you mean?” Harry asked, quoting back Cedric’s own words from before the first task.

“Exactly,” Cedric answered, giving Harry a squeeze.

“Excellent idea,” Harry declared. He yawned loudly. His eyelids felt very heavy all of a sudden. “I’m really glad we don’t have classes tomorrow.”

“That doesn’t mean that it’s okay for you to sleep here tonight,” Cedric said, poking Harry gently. “Let’s pack up our stuff and go to bed. We can come back tomorrow night and try again with Cho.”

“Okay,” Harry grumbled sleepily.

The two boys packed everything up and left the Room of Requirement. As they headed down the seventh floor corridor, Harry went over what would be happening in the next few days. Not only did he need to find Cedric the perfect gift, but he would also be slow dancing with his former crush and boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend. His mind was so hazy and distracted that he probably wouldn’t have made it to Gryffindor Tower if it hadn’t been for Cedric leading him there. They said goodnight at the Fat Lady’s portrait and Harry stumbled up the stairs to his dormitory.

 _I’m really, **really** glad we don’t have classes tomorrow,_ Harry thought groggily as he dove into bed.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


The next day Harry relayed his two dilemmas to his friends. He had to wait until lunch, though, as he’d slept through breakfast.

“I don’t get it,” Ron said once Harry was finished. “What’s the big deal about dancing with Cho? I thought you used to fancy her.”

“That **_is_** the problem, Ron,” Hermione answered exasperatedly. “Cedric knows he used to fancy Cho, and now Harry has to dance with her, very close, in front of him. That would make anyone self-conscious.”

 _You don’t know the half of it,_ Harry thought.

And she really didn’t. Harry never told his friends about Cedric’s past with the Ravenclaw girl. It was obviously the sort of thing Cedric didn’t want anyone knowing about. If he ever decided to tell them that was his choice, but otherwise Harry’s lips were sealed.

“The gift crisis is more easily solved,” Hermione said. “We can simply go into Hogsmeade and find something there.”

“How?” Ron asked. “There’s no Hogsmeade visits scheduled for before Christmas.”

Hermione smiled mischievously.

“There’s more than one way to get into Hogsmeade,” she said in a light, cryptic tone.

“Hermione!” Ron exclaimed. “Since when do you suggest rule breaking?”

“Sometimes you need to bend the rules for a good cause,” the girl reasoned. “We’ll have to go tomorrow, though. I, er, already have plans for today.”

“Plans, eh?” Harry said. “You’re being rather vague, Hermione. What are you going to be doing?”

“I’m not telling,” she said defiantly. The boys stared at her, agape. “What, Harry’s the only one who’s allowed to have mysterious liaisons?”

“Could you not refer to my dates as ‘mysterious liaisons’?” Harry demanded, skewering some potatoes with his fork. “It makes them sound… tawdry.”

“Fair enough,” Hermione conceded. “So, tomorrow, after lunch?”

“It’s a date,” Ron said.

“What?” Hermione squeaked. “No it’s not.”

Again the boys stared, baffled by her sudden outburst.

“What are you talking about?” Ron asked.

“Nothing,” she replied. “I’ve gotta go.”

Hermione swiftly gathered up her things and bolted from the Great Hall. Ron and Harry watched her go, baffled by her sudden mood swing. Then Ron shook his head and turned back to his food.

“Completely mental,” he said to no one in particular.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


By the time Harry reached the location of Room of Requirement that night, the door had already appeared in the usually blank wall. He hesitated for a minute before opening it. He couldn’t explain why, really. Harry knew exactly what was on the other side, and that there was no avoiding it. Still, he took a moment to prepare himself before opening the door. He was immediately greeted by the sound of Cho laughing.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she was saying to Cedric. “I am nothing if not delightful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cedric mocked. He caught sight of Harry entering and beamed. “Hey!”

“Hi, Harry,” Cho said warmly.

“Hey,” Harry responded. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” Cho told him. “Ric was just warning me to behave myself, and I was merely informing him that it was unnecessary, as I am **_always_** well-behaved.”

“And I was about to inform **_her_** that she is quite mistaken,” Cedric finished for her. “She should thank you for walking in and interrupting when you did before she embarrassed herself.”

“Like Harry walking in is enough to stop me from embarrassing myself,” Cho replied. She stomped over to the stereo and began shuffling through the stack of CDs.

“How are you, Harry?’ Cedric asked, pulling him into a hug.

“A little confused,” Harry answered. “Did she just call you Ric?”

“It’s her little joke,” Cedric explained. “She knows I hate the nickname ‘Ced’ so as an alternative she calls me ‘Ric’. She thinks she’s funny.”

“I **_am_** funny,” Cho sang from the corner.

Harry laughed uncertainly. Cedric and Cho were so comfortable with each other; he couldn’t help feeling a little like an outsider. This did nothing whatsoever to alleviate his nerves about what they were here to do.

As if he sensed what Harry was feeling, Cedric leaned close and whispered, “Don’t be nervous. She takes a bit of getting used to, but she’s quite sweet if you give her a chance.”

The younger boy nodded. He knew he should trust his boyfriend. After all, if Cedric had thought this would end poorly he wouldn’t have arranged for Cho to come and assist them. That gave Harry some comfort. Not a lot, but some.

“So, what do you think?” Cho asked as she sauntered over to join them. She placed her hands on her hips and looked back and forth between the two boys. “Are we gonna do this or what?”

Cedric turned to Harry.

“Sure,” Harry answered. “Let’s do it.”

While Cedric went to man the stereo, Harry and Cho got into position. A year ago Harry would’ve melted at the thought of wrapping his arms around the pretty Ravenclaw Seeker. Now it just made him extremely uncomfortable.

“This is weird,” he admitted.

“It’s weird,” Cho agreed.

“Very weird,” Harry amended as he placed a hand on Cho’s waist.

“Glad we’re in agreement,” Cho muttered, grabbing onto Harry’s shoulder. “Ric told me that he filled you in on our sordid history.”

“Yes he did,” Harry replied. Wanting to be honest, he threw in, “Did he tell you I used to have crush on you?”

“He failed to mention that,” Cho said. “Probably worried I’d try and steal you away if he did. Is that why you asked me to the ball?”

“Kind of,” the boy confessed.

“Naughty-naughty, Harry,” she scolded. “Too bad you’re a queer, otherwise I definitely would’ve said yes. You are quite the hottie. I’m surprised Ric was able to land a boy like you.”

“You’re aware that I can hear every word you’re saying, right?” Cedric said flatly as he sorted through the music selection.

“Well then we’d better keep our voices down, or else you might overhear our secret plan to run away together,” Cho shot back. She winked at her dance partner and said, “Right, Harry?”

“Absolutely,” Harry responded with a grin.

“Elope later,” Cedric said, sticking a CD into the stereo, “dance now.”

Music filled the air. Cho pulled Harry a bit closer. A few minutes ago that would have made Harry feel unspeakably awkward, but now that the tension was slightly broken between them it actually felt kind of nice. Still weird, of course, but nice all the same.

“You ready?” she asked him.

“Ready or not,” he said, “here we go.”

Shakily, Harry took in a breath and stepped to the beat.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


“So it wasn’t so bad then?” Hermione asked Harry the following afternoon.

The pair was making their way up the stairs to the third floor. From there they planned on taking a secret passage to Hogsmeade concealed in the statue of a humpbacked witch. It was only Harry and Hermione going on this excursion as Ron had backed out at the last minute. According to him, “illicit Hogsmeade visits to buy a friend’s boyfriend’s Christmas gift” wasn’t really his thing.

“Not at all, actually,” Harry replied truthfully. “Cho’s really great, we got along very well.”

“Good,” Hermione said. “How did the dancing part go?”

Harry thought for a moment about the number of times he had accidentally stepped on Cho’s feet before answering, “That didn’t go quite as well.”

“I’m positive you’ll get it before Friday,” Hermione said comfortingly as they approached the humpbacked witch statue. They looked up and down the corridor. No one was around. “Check the map,” she told him.

Taking the wrinkly old piece of parchment out of his pocket, Harry pressed his wand to it and said the magic words: “ _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._ ” The familiar lines of ink danced across the page for a few moments until the Marauder’s Map was complete. Harry studied its contents closely and found that the only dots nearby in their corridor were his and Hermione’s.

“All clear,” he assured her. He mumbled a quick “ _Mischief managed!_ ” to clear the map, then tapped the stone statue beside them and said, “ _Dissendium!_ ” Instantly the small opening in the witch’s hump appeared. “Do you want me to help you in?” Harry asked. Hermione didn’t answer. She looked a little uneasy. “Hermione?”

“I’m not so sure this is a good idea anymore,” she said. “What if we get caught?”

“This was your idea!” Harry argued.

“I know,” Hermione admitted. “But I didn’t really think about it until right now. If we’re caught sneaking into Hogsmeade, we’ll be in a lot of trouble.”

“Well, stay here if you want,” Harry told her, “but I’m going.”

Without another word, Harry hoisted himself up and through the opening. He slid a ways down the stone shoot inside the witch’s hump. It must have been long, considering it started on the third floor and led to a tunnel that went underneath the Hogwarts’ grounds, but it was so dark and went so fast that Harry could hardly tell. After a minute or two he landed firmly in the underground passageway. It was even darker at the bottom than on the ride down. Harry pulled out his wand.

“ _Lumos_ ,” he said softly, igniting the tip.

He looked around the beginning of the now-familiar tunnel. Not for the first time, Harry wondered just what part of the grounds he was under. Probably the greenhouses or somewhere near the Quidditch pitch.

All of a sudden, Harry was torn from his musings by the sound of something coming down the chute behind him. He turned, holding his wand out before him, and witnessed Hermione tumbling out of the opening. She landed hard on the ground, but quickly stood and brushed herself off.

“You didn’t tell me about the slide,” Hermione muttered, scowling slightly.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Harry replied.

“Harry, if it hadn’t been for my encouraging you to tell him how you feel, you wouldn’t even be with Cedric right now,” she said. “Do you really think I can trust you to pick out a Christmas-slash-anniversary gift by yourself?”

“Hey, I’m not **_completely_** hopeless!” Harry protested.

“No, you are,” Hermione retorted, strolling past him to start down the passageway. “It’s not your fault, really. All boys are. I mean, look at Ron.”

“Oh, **_un_** fair!” Harry called after her. He moved quickly to catch up with her, saying, “I am nowhere **_near_** as bad as Ron!”

“Well, that’s true,” Hermione accepted. “But you’re still kind of bad.”

“It’s my first relationship,” the boy grumped. “I can’t help being a little clueless. And hey,” he added, realizing something, “you don’t have any more experience than I do! You have less, even!”

Hermione smiled slightly in response to this accusation and shrugged.

“Wait,” Harry said, stopping. “What’s with that? What does” – he did an exaggerated imitation of her smile and shrug – “mean?”

“It means that you have no idea what I’m up to on summer breaks,” Hermione informed him. “And I do have a secret date to the Yule Ball. How do you know I don’t have a secret boyfriend as well?”

Harry thought about this as they began walking again. Did Hermione really have a secret boyfriend, or was she just joking around with him? There was that – what did she call it? – “mysterious liaison” of hers the other day. Was something going on with her? If there was, Harry supposed her secret would come out eventually. His certainly did.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


A long while later, Harry and Hermione reached the end of the tunnel and climbed the many steps up to the trapdoor in Honeydukes’ basement. They used Harry’s Invisibility Cloak to sneak upstairs without being noticed, then shed the garment once inside the store itself. Just as Hermione predicted, the village of Hogsmeade was bustling with shoppers so close to Christmas, so the two teens went almost completely unnoticed even despite the absence of other Hogwarts students in the village. Since they were already in it to begin with, they decided to look around Honeydukes Sweetshop for a while first before moving on to another store.

“Any idea what Cedric might like?” Hermione asked as they looked over a long row of shelves filled with different sweets.

Harry shrugged.

“I don’t know about candy,” he said, “but he likes spicy foods.”

“How about some Pepper Imps?” Hermione suggested, gently fingering a pack. “They make you breathe fire. They’re probably spicy.”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “Something about giving your boyfriend candy that makes him breathe fire doesn’t sound right to me.”

“I suppose that’s true,” she agreed. Hermione put the Pepper Imps back and continued down the aisle. “Why don’t you do a special order of Bertie Bott’s?”

“What’s that?”

“You can place a special order of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans for a specific theme of flavor,” Hermione explained. “For example, if you can ask for a breakfast themed order, and they’ll only pack flavors like eggs and sausages and pancakes; things like that, things you’d eat for breakfast.”

“So I can ask for a spicy flavor order,” Harry filled in. “That’s an excellent idea! How do we do it?”

“Well, first you need to take of your glasses and smooth your hair down over your forehead,” Hermione instructed.

After giving her a bewildered look, which she met with one that plainly said she meant it, Harry followed his friend’s orders. The world went a little fuzzy when he removed his glasses, but he was able to make out basic shapes.

“Why am I doing this?” he wondered.

“Because we have to talk to one of the owners to place the order,” she told him. “And while I highly doubt he’ll be able to identify me, you are far too recognizable. So keep your glasses off and cover your scar.”

“Got it,” Harry replied.

He did as he was told and followed Hermione up to the register. The woman sitting behind it was Mrs. Flume, the owner’s wife. She eyed them curiously as they approached her. She was no doubt wondering what a pair of teenagers was doing in the shop when there was no Hogwarts visit scheduled.

Hermione smiled sweetly and said, “Hi, we’d like to place a Bertie Bott’s special order.”

“Shouldn’t you two be in school?” Mrs. Flume asked, looking between them. Harry smoothed down the hair resting over his scar self-consciously.

“We don’t go to Hogwarts,” Hermione told her. “We’re here with our father, actually. You know, a bit of Christmas shopping.”

Mrs. Flume looked like she didn’t really buy Hermione’s story. Harry braced himself, fully prepared to try and make a run for it if she called them out. But Mrs. Flume merely grunted, seemingly satisfied by the girl’s explanation.

“What’s the order?” she asked.

Hermione told the owner’s wife what they wanted and Mrs. Flume wrote it down, saying their order would be ready in an hour. They thanked her and stepped out onto Hogsmeade’s snow-covered main drive.

“That was close,” Harry said as the door closed behind them. “I was sure she wouldn’t believe you.”

“She probably didn’t,” Hermione replied. “She might just not care.”

“Whatever,” Harry said indifferently. “I’m just glad that that’s over with and I don’t have to worry about this boyfriend-present business anymore.”

“You’re joking, right?” Hermione laughed. “Harry, you can’t **_only_** get Cedric a bag of Bertie Bott’s for Christmas!”

Harry groaned.

“But it’s so clever and thoughtful!”

“And not enough!” Hermione pressed, still smiling with a hint of arrogance.

Watching her smile, Harry noticed something. Her teeth were straighter than usual somehow.

“What’s up with your teeth?” he asked.

Hermione made a discomforted face and covered her mouth with her hand, saying, “Oh, that.” She pulled her hand away and continued, “Remember when Malfoy messed my teeth up with that curse?” Harry nodded. “Well, Madam Pomfrey had to set them right, but she didn’t really know what right **_was_** so I sort of let her straighten them out a bit more than usual.”

“That’s why you kept biting your tongue the next day,” Harry realized.

“Yes,” Hermione said. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice sooner.”

“I might never have noticed if it hadn’t been for your condescending smile,” Harry said with a faux bitterness that his own smile betrayed. He sighed deeply and said, “It’s really not enough?”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him along the street.

“Come on, Harry. We’ve got an hour. We’ll find something else.”

Despite his predicament, Harry couldn’t help noticing how cheerful and festive the village of Hogsmeade was around Christmastime. There was a layer of snow over everything, giving the scene an incredibly peaceful look even with all of the holiday shoppers rushing about. Store windows had colorful displays that stood out particularly in contrast with the white all around them. There were carolers and revelers and dozens of people lugging heavy packages, all smiling through the cold and wishing each other a happy Christmas. It made Harry glad that he and Hermione had come regardless of the risk.

They went through a number of stores but nothing seemed to satisfy either of them. There were a few things Harry liked in Zonko’s Joke Shop but, as Hermione pointed out, Dungbombs and Nose-Biting Teacups are fine for friends but not very good Christmas gifts for someone you’re dating. (“Also,” she added, “never buy me a Nose-Biting Teacup.”) Harry in turn pointed out in Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop that, while there were many fine items there, even the finest quill wasn’t quite special enough. Their hour nearly over, Harry was starting to give up when Hermione suggested they try Gladrags Wizardwear.

“What am I supposed to get him in here?” Harry asked, riffling through a section of socks with strange properties. He looked at a tag and read, “‘Scream when they get too smelly!’ Not quite sure that’s the message I’m looking for.”

“They have normal clothes, too,” Hermione said, indicating another area of the store.

Indeed there were normal clothes. There were a lot of winter items, such as hats and scarves and gloves. There were also several nice wool sweaters in a number of colors. Harry looked through them and found one the exact same shade as his dress robes, a handsome bottle green. He pulled it out from the pile to get a better look. It looked good, and felt to be the right size for Cedric. It was perfect.

“That’s lovely,” Hermione admired. “Does Cedric like green?”

“It’s his favorite color,” Harry said.

“Excellent!” Hermione said cheerfully. “Now hurry up and buy it. We’ve got to pick up the order from Honeydukes and get back to school before dinner.”

Harry purchased the sweater, then hurried back to Honeydukes Sweetshop with Hermione. There he paid for his special Bertie Bott’s order, along with some Toothflossing Stringmints for Hermione to say thank you for helping him out. She tried telling Harry that he didn’t need to, but he insisted.

“You’ve got to take care of those teeth now that they’re fixed,” he told her.

“Thank you,” Hermione said, accepting the mints with a gracious smile.

They had to linger around the store for a bit to make sure all was clear, but were soon able to slip under the Invisibility Cloak and depart through the basement.

The trek down the tunnel felt shorter coming from Hogsmeade than it had from the school. The slide, on the other hand, was much more difficult to get up than it had been to go down. With some struggle and, for Hermione, a little bit of help the pair was able to make their way up and out of the witch statue’s hump. Unfortunately, they misjudged the distance between the opening in the statue and the ground, and fell ungracefully out, landing in the third floor corridor with a thud. Harry recovered first, springing up in a flash, and then helped Hermione to her feet. They glanced around to make sure there was no one to witness what had just happened. The corridor was empty, so Harry and Hermione composed themselves and walked calmly toward the stairs.

“Well, that was fun,” Harry quipped, with a false air of casualty.

“Most definitely,” Hermione responded.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


Over dinner, they relayed the events of their afternoon to Ron in hushed tones.

“I have to admit, I’m a little surprised you didn’t get caught,” Ron told them. “It was one thing for Harry to sneak in when the place was packed with students, but in the middle of the week like that…”

“Is that why you didn’t come?” Hermione asked good-humoredly. “Too scared?”

“No!” Ron cried with slight indignation. “Of course not!”

“Why **_didn’t_** you come?” Harry queried. “Does the whole Quidditch thing make you uncomfortable?”

“For the last time, no,” Ron said, still slightly annoyed. “I just didn’t feel like going. I’m happy for you. Really.” Off of Harry’s dubious gaze, he added coolly, “Can we just please change the subject?”

“Okay,” Harry said. Searching his mind for a new topic, he blurted out, “Hermione got her teeth fixed.”

“Harry!” Hermione hissed.

“Of course she did,” Ron said absentmindedly. “Like, a month ago. Did you just notice?”

“Uhm, yeah,” Harry replied. “You’re telling me **_you_** noticed a month ago?”

“What?” Ron said. “It’s not like I’m **_completely_** clueless,” he threw in, nearly echoing Harry’s words earlier that day.

Harry and Hermione shared a look, obviously thinking the same thing: maybe Ron wasn’t such a lost case after all. They didn’t say another word about it, merely shrugged and went back to their dinner.

Then Ron tried, for the eighteenth time, to get Hermione to tell him who her date to the Yule Ball was, and the moment was ruined.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


“You know what’s weird?” Cho asked as she and Harry twirled around the Room of Requirement’s makeshift dance floor.

“I’m trying to concentrate and you’re asking questions?” Harry murmured.

“You’re doing fine, and don’t interrupt my train of thought,” she admonished. “I was just thinking: Ric and I used to date, and we’re both Seekers. And now you and Ric are dating, and you’re both Seekers. And you used to like me, and I’d totally take a run at you if you weren’t dating my best friend and, y’know, gay, and we’re both Seekers as well. Isn’t that weird?”

“Yes, Cho, it’s downright eerie,” Harry said unconvincingly.

“Maybe I should think about dating Draco Malfoy,” Cho mused. “Then we would have all four Hogwarts Seekers in the mix.”

“Now **_that’s_** weird,” Harry told her, successfully pulling a twirl on his dance partner.

It was late on Christmas Eve and, after four nights of practicing with a real-life female, Harry had finally gotten the hang of slow dancing. Not only that, but he felt much more comfortable with Cho. The two of them were chatting and laughing like they’d been friends for, well, maybe not years, but much longer than they were in reality.

“If you’re finished planning a bizarre Seeker four-gy,” Cedric called over the music, “I think we should probably wrap this lesson up for the night.”

“Oh, is that your expert opinion, Professor Diggory?” Cho teased. “I think you just want me to clear out so you can get an anniversary snog with your hot boyfriend.”

“Yeah, that was the plan,” Cedric agreed without a hint of embarrassment.

“All right, I’ll go,” Cho pouted. “But I want details tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow’s Christmas,” Harry pointed out.

“Consider it a gift to me then,” Cho said.

She gathered up her things and gave both boys a kiss on the cheek, then departed with a cheery wave. The boys smiled at each other from across the dance floor.

“So, now what?” Cedric asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Harry said. “I believe I heard someone mention snogging?”

Cedric’s smile broadened as he promptly closed the distance between them, taking the younger boy in his arms and kissing him. Harry deepened the kiss, enjoying the feel of Cedric’s arms and body and lips. Cedric started to guide their embrace over toward the couch, but Harry pulled away before they made it. He looked at Harry, concerned.

“Harry?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

Harry only smiled mysteriously and drifted over toward the stereo. He pulled a CD out of the pile, put it in, and skipped to the last track. As the music began to play, Harry turned and held out his hand for Cedric.

“Dance with me,” he said.

Cedric grinned, and started ambling over to him.

“You realize that this might completely undo all the work you’ve done in the past few nights.”

“I don’t care,” Harry shrugged. He set out across the floor as well. “It’s our anniversary, our first, and it’s Christmas Eve. I want to dance with my boyfriend.”

They met each other halfway. Again Cedric wrapped his arms around Harry, only this time without a kiss. Instead, he pressed his forehead to the shorter boy’s.

“Okay,” he said.

And they swayed to the music.

“It’s weird,” Harry said, “how different life was two months ago. Neither of us were champions, there was no tournament for us to worry about. Things were much simpler back then.”

“But if it hadn’t been for the tournament, we might not have gotten together,” Cedric theorized.

“That’s true,” Harry replied. “In that case I’m almost glad – no, I **_am_** glad I was entered.” He looked up at Cedric. “If I had to go through everything that happened between Halloween and the first task again, with all of the school against me, just to be here with you right now, I would.”

Cedric ducked down and kissed Harry, pulling the boy more tightly into him. Then he moved his lips to Harry’s ear, like he did so many weeks ago after they were chosen for the tournament.

“Happy anniversary, Harry,” he whispered.

“Happy anniversary, Cedric,” Harry said back.

  



	15. Making Christmas

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

“Making Christmas”

  


After lingering for a long while following Cho’s departure, kissing and dancing and enjoying each other’s company, Harry and Cedric reluctantly parted ways. As usual, Cedric walked Harry to the Fat Lady’s portrait to give them more time together before turning in. Once there, they said their goodbyes. And, since it was past midnight, they wished each other a merry Christmas as well.

Ready for a good night’s rest before starting Christmas properly, Harry tumbled into bed. To his surprise, instead of landing on his smooth, soft sheets, Harry felt something firmer and rougher against his face, like paper. Looking at his pillow, Harry saw that it **_was_** paper – an envelope with a small scrap of parchment attached to it. He looked the items over in the light coming from his window. The parchment read:

  


_Harry –_

  


_This came while you were out. Me and Hermione tried to stay up so we could read it with you, but it got late. Let us know what it says in the morning._

  


_– Ron_

  


Immediately, Harry ripped open the envelope, knowing exactly what was inside now: Sirius’s response to the letter he sent after the first task. Harry quickly scanned the short letter once, then read it at a slower pace two more times. Nothing very personal, other than congratulations for getting past the Horntail. He swelled with pride when he read that Sirius was impressed with him. The part toward the end about keeping his eyes open troubled Harry. He’d almost forgotten the shady information Sirius relayed to him about Karkaroff. But nothing suspicious had happened to him lately. And it was Christmas, after all; hardly a time to be worrying about conspiracy theories. The moment passed as soon as it had come.

Harry’s eyes fell on the last line of the letter.

  


_Keep in touch, I still want to hear about anything unusual._

  


In his head, Harry imagined the kind of response he could give to such a request:

  


_Well, Sirius, to be honest, something pretty unusual **has** happened. You see, for the past month I’ve been dating the other Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory. That’s right, I’m gay, or at least pretty sure that I am. Hope you’re not too disappointed, because he makes me unbelievably happy. I’ve opened up more to him in the past few weeks than I ever have to anyone else, with the exception of Hermione and, to a slightly lesser extent, Ron, but for some reason I still haven’t been able to bring myself to tell him the truth about you and I can’t figure out why. And as if that wasn’t weird enough, I had to take dancing lessons from his ex-girlfriend, who also happens to be my former female crush. To my surprise, we’ve actually become friends now, but that still doesn’t make the thought of **them** dancing together any easier to stomach. You see, my boyfriend is taking his ex-girlfriend, my old crush, to the Yule Ball. Oh, and did I mention she’s also the only girl he’s ever slept with? How’s **that** for unusual?_

  


Not for the first time, Harry wondered what Sirius’s response might be if he actually did send a letter like that. Well, maybe not all of that, exactly. The bit about him dating Cedric, though. Part of him wanted to, to tell Sirius and be done with it. Maybe that was why Harry hadn’t told Cedric about his godfather yet. Maybe he wanted to be sure they would have his approval first.

Maybe.

Whatever the reason, Harry wasn’t going to worry about it just yet. It was Christmas, and Harry didn’t want to think about serious matters like coming out to Sirius. For now he wanted only to sleep and to hopefully wake up to a very happy Christmas Day.

And although he tried to push thoughts of coming clean to his boyfriend and his godfather out of his mind, Harry couldn’t help picturing a perfect Christmas as he drifted off to sleep, with Cedric and Sirius and his friends. In his vision, he and Cedric could open about their relationship, their affectionate gestures met only with love and approval from those around them. And Sirius was a free man, a happy man, who welcomed Cedric, like he had Harry, as a son.

It was a silly dream, Harry would realize when he reflected on it later; incredibly girly and highly unrealistic. Still, it was enough to cause a wide smile to break out across Harry’s face as he slept.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


Early the next morning, Harry stirred awake briefly. He hoped to roll over and drift back to sleep, slipping from one beautiful Christmas dream to another. These hopes were abruptly dashed, replaced by surprise and near-terror when he saw Dobby the house-elf’s wrinkly little face looming inches away from his own. Once the shock had worn off and Harry’s heart vacated his throat, along with the surprised shout, he apologized to his dorm mates for waking them. Thankfully it was Christmas morning, and any bad feelings about being woken so early were overlooked in favor of opening presents.

Harry graciously accepted Dobby’s handmade Quidditch-themed socks and regretted not thinking to get the house-elf something while he was in Gladrags with Hermione days earlier. Of course, he really had no way of anticipating that the tiny creature was going to give him anything, and Dobby seemed happy with the second-hand socks Harry gave him. The young wizard only smiled at Dobby’s suggestion that you weren’t supposed to have two of the same kind.

It was a pretty good haul for Harry this year, gift-wise. Other than the Dursleys’ present of a tissue, of course. Harry was just grateful it wasn’t used. There was a curious note with the copy of Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland from Hermione that said she had another book she would present him with later. He wondered if Hermione was trying to turn him into a fellow bookworm after all the time they’d spent together in the library while he and Ron weren’t speaking. Harry especially liked his gift from Mrs. Weasley, the green sweater with the picture of a dragon on it. Harry was always touched by how Mrs. Weasley sent him something at the holidays. Plus, the green reminded him of his own gift for Cedric. Putting his now-opened gifts in a pile, Harry grinned, thinking about how he still had one more coming that night.

Finished with their presents, Harry and Ron headed down to the common room to find that Hermione, unsurprisingly, was already there waiting. She was leafing through a book in front of the fire while stroking Crookshanks, who was curled up in the girl’s lap. Hermione looked up when she heard them approach.

“Merry Christmas, boys,” she said with a smile.

“Merry Christmas,” they said back.

“You said you have something else for me?” Harry asked, holding up her note.

“Come now, are presents all you can think about at Christmas?” Hermione tisked.

“Lord, no,” Ron answered. “There’s also food.”

“Hey, it’s **_your_** note,” Harry said in his defense. “I’m perfectly happy with the book you already gave me. And thank you, by the way.”

“You’re welcome,” Hermione said. She shut the book she was reading and handed it to him. “Here.”

Harry read the title out loud: “Magical Mildew: A Wizard’s Field Guide to Functional Fungus.” He looked up at her quizzically. “Thanks?”

“Open it and take a look at the title page,” she said, grinning eagerly.

Unsure what to expect, Harry opened the book. He almost dropped it to the floor when read what was printed on the title page, which, thankfully, he did not read aloud: Wizardry and Homosexuality, A Retrospective: From the Dark Ages to the Modern Era.

“I put the fake cover on so that no one would accidentally pick it up and start reading it,” Hermione explained. “I saw this in the bookshop in Hogsmeade last month and thought you might want to give it a look.” She lowered her voice and continued, “I know it feels like you’re the only person in the world going through this right now, like you’re some kind of freak. But you’re not. And I think this book could help you deal with it.”

“This is really … really great,” Harry said, tearing his eyes away from the title to look at her. “Thank you.”

She shrugged.

“I just hope it can be of some help,” Hermione said as she rose from her chair. “And see? It pays off to have a friend who knows a lot of books.”

“At least it has this time,” Harry replied. He passed the book to Ron, who glanced at the title page for a second before immediately handing it back.

“That’s great and all,” Ron said, “but can we go and get something to **_eat_** already? I’m starving.”

Harry glanced at Hermione. She met his gaze uncertainly. They both strongly suspected Ron’s approval of Harry’s sexuality was beginning to wane. Any time they brought this up, however, Ron emphatically informed them that he was fine with it. Even so, Harry couldn’t help feeling Ron had a problem, whether it was with Cedric or the entire situation altogether. He didn’t want to press though, especially not on Christmas.

Instead, he shrugged it off and said, “Yeah, let’s go.”

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


Breakfast went by without incident. There was a surprisingly low turnout considering how many students had stayed behind for the break.

 _Perhaps,_ Harry thought, _some people like to sleep in on Christmas Day._

The idea was strange to him. Who could possibly sleep late on Christmas morning, with all the festive excitement? Of course, Harry also thought it was strange to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas at all if you had a family to go home to, even for some stupid dance. It was one thing for Ron and Hermione, who only did it to keep Harry company, though they’d never admit it.

It was because they did so that Harry purposely refrained from looking over at the Hufflepuff table throughout their meal. It was Christmas morning and, despite what some people thought, a time for family. Ron and Hermione were, other than Sirius, the closest thing to family that Harry had and they deserved nothing less than his undivided attention. At first Harry thought it would be difficult to not look across the room at his handsome Hufflepuff hottie. However, as the three of them talked and laughed and reminisced about Christmases past, he found himself quite thoroughly distracted, in the best possible way, of course. He’d almost forgotten how good it was to spend time just the three of them.

After their meal, they returned to the Gryffindor common room. While Ron played with an Exploding Snap set, Harry and Hermione settled into armchairs to read. Harry pulled out the book Hermione had given him and read the title page again.

Wizardry and Homosexuality, A Retrospective: From the Dark Ages to the Modern Era.

The title made it sound like one of those cheesy self-help books his aunt Petunia read, the kind that use metaphors about clouds and acorns achieving their full potentials by growing into trees, and usually spoke about your “inner child” at least a hundred times. Looking at the table of contents, Harry saw that this book was nothing like that.

It was a history book of sorts. It was all about gay and lesbian wizards through the ages, going all the way back to early civilization, and their struggle for equal recognition in the wizarding society. It was fascinating. And surprising. There seemed to be less social stigma when it came to being a homosexual for wizards than there was for Muggles. Harry supposed it had something to do with wizards being a minority themselves, in comparison to the Muggles. It’s easier to accept someone else’s differences if you have a few of your own. And there were so many famous gay and lesbian wizards throughout the years who achieved great things! Many people even suspected that Bowman Wright, the man who developed the Golden Snitch, was a homosexual, though there was no concrete evidence to back this up. Skipping ahead to more recent history, Harry read that still today there were well-known wizards who also happened to be gay; a few influential members of the Ministry of Magic were gay, and the editor of the Daily Prophet was a lesbian. Even members of Quidditch teams, like Aidan Lynch of Ireland, who Harry had seen play at the Quidditch World Cup the summer before. Lynch’s boyfriend was a Squib who was a gay rights activist in the Muggle world. And it wasn’t limited to England , or even Europe for that matter. All around the world there were renowned gay wizards and witches.

The book was incredibly thick, so there was no way Harry could finish it between breakfast and lunch, but he skimmed over most of it, taking in facts and anecdotes about wizards who came before him voraciously. It was astonishing to learn that the wizarding community was, mostly, tolerant of homosexuality. Sure, there was some bad mixed in there as well but, in a world where Death Eaters existed, Harry expected nothing less. Even so, gay wizards had more rights than most gay Muggles did; they were even allowed to get married by the Ministry of Magic, which was something almost all Muggle governments still did not allow.

The more he read, the more reassured Harry felt. It wasn’t personal shame he had been worrying about when it came to being gay. Not really. He was becoming very proud of who he was, all aspects of himself, including this. But he was Harry Potter, not just the young man, but the figure, the title. He was the famous boy wizard who had taken down Lord Voldemort. If he was gay, and attempted to live his life openly as a homosexual, the whole wizarding world would know. He’d been terrified of being globally reviled because of who he was. But now, seeing accounts of wizards who had done so much more than him and were also gay, Harry had never been more relieved in his entire life, not even when he’d believed he was leaving the Dursleys to live with Sirius.

Hermione was right. He wasn’t a freak.

He wasn’t alone.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


When lunch finally arrived, Harry, Ron and Hermione headed back down to the Great Hall. The meal was superb. There was so much food that the tables sagged under the weight of it all. Harry felt so full at the end that he wasn’t sure he’d have any room left for the ball that night.

As the feast was winding down, and most of students were retiring to their various dormitories, two visitors dropped by the Gryffindor table: Cedric and Cho.

“Merry Christmas, all,” Cedric said jovially.

“Hello,” Cho added, less certainly.

“Hi,” Hermione replied kindly.

Ron merely nodded.

Harry looked around at his odd assortment of friends. It wasn’t too long ago that he could’ve sworn he’d never see the five of them all gathered around. Even now, mixing Cedric and Cho with Ron and Hermione felt a bit strange. And yet, at the same time, not so strange. They were, after all, united by a common thread, that being Harry himself. Each was, in their own way, connected to him. It was only natural that they would converge some time.

“What’ve you all been up to today?” Cedric asked, not seeming to sense the awkward tone at all.

He stole a slice of potato off of Harry’s plate and popped it in his mouth, smiling cheekily at the other boy. Harry wanted to admonish Cedric for being so brazen in public, but all he could do was smile back.

“Just hanging around,” Harry replied when no one else would.

“Any plans for the afternoon?” Cedric asked, being sure to address all three of the Gryffindors.

Before anyone could answer, Fred and George appeared from out of nowhere.

“Good day, ladies and gents,” Fred greeted them.

“How are you all on this fine Christmas morning?” George inquired. Without giving any of them a chance to reply, he continued, “Ah, yes. The sun is shining, birds are chirping –”

“—and the grounds are filled with freshly fallen snow,” Fred concluded for his twin.

“Yes, yes, snow,” George said eagerly. “And I think you all know what snow means.”

“Frozen water?” Hermione supplied.

“So literal, Hermione,” George chided.

“Snow means snowball fight!” Fred enlightened them. “Who’s in?”

The twins looked around at the five of them. All five of them. Harry was startled and perplexed by this. The last time he’d seen Fred and George around Cedric they were incredibly rude. He wondered what brought about the sudden change, but didn’t want to say anything that would possibly ruin the moment.

“I’m in,” Harry said.

He turned to Cedric, who seemed uncertain. Harry looked at him expectantly and Cedric nodded.

“Sure,” he said. “Sounds good.”

Ron shrugged.

“So long as I don’t have to play against you two,” he said to his brothers. “You guys are brutal.”

“Ladies?” Fred asked.

“Not interested,” Hermione responded immediately.

“Me either,” Cho harmonized. “But we can watch you boys beat the piss out off each other.”

“Ooh, that does sound like fun,” Hermione said with the tiniest hint of glee.

“It’s settled then,” George cheered. “So Weasley brothers against the famed Hogwarts Champions then?”

The aforementioned Hogwarts Champions looked at each other and smiled.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Bring it on.”

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


Hundreds of snowballs, six snow forts (including one so ambitious that it was more a fortress than a fort), three fake truces, two real truces, and several hours later, the five boys were still at war. Off on the sidelines, Hermione and Cho continued chatting away, cheering vaguely whenever someone made a particularly valiant effort. Harry wondered occasionally what they had to talk about, but usually when he did it cost him a snowball to the head. So, as a rule, he tried to let it rest.

“Come on, Harry,” Cedric said as they crouched behind their wall of ice and snow. “Stay focused. We can win this!”

Harry nodded.

“I think we need to try the kamikaze approach again,” Cedric told him. “Grab as many snowballs as you can and make a dash for the other side. Then, once you’re there, let ‘em loose. And while they’re distracted, I’ll come join you for a second wave. They’re as good as ours!”

“Are you insane?” Harry hissed. “Why don’t **_you_** go first?”

“Because you’re smaller, and faster,” Cedric argued.

“But I’ll be totally unprotected!”

“I’ll cover you,” he assured the boy. “You trust me?”

Staring into Cedric’s icy gray eyes, an urge overcame Harry. He pulled his boyfriend further down behind their wall, right on top of him, and kissed him. It wasn’t their most comfortable kiss, as both boys’ lips were cold and quivering slightly from being out in the snow for so long. But it did say everything Harry wanted it to.

“I trust you,” he answered, watching his breath coming out in a fog across Cedric’s cheek.

“Then let’s do this,” Cedric said, grinning wickedly.

They sprang into action. Harry gathered as much ammunition as he could while Cedric kept guard, making a few halfhearted throws so that the Wesley brothers wouldn’t become suspicious. Harry smiled broadly as he worked. He knew kissing Cedric like that, on the open school grounds, with Fred, Ron, and George only a few feet away was very foolish. He didn’t really care though. He felt euphoric. After reading Hermione’s book, and being surrounded by all of his friends, Harry couldn’t remember a happier Christmas in fourteen years.

“You ready?” Cedric called.

Arms loaded with snowballs, Harry stood.

“As I’ll ever be,” he replied.

“Okaaay,” Cedric said, watching the Weasleys’ fort. Then hastily he shouted, “GO!”

Harry went.

A heavy barrage of snowballs zinged and crashed all around him. Harry did his best to push through them. Finally, after being hit more than half a dozen times, he made it. He dived on the frosted fortress, throwing his snowballs in all directions. But it was no use. They had been prepared for such an invasion, and he was greatly outnumbered, even after Cedric rushed to his aid. Soon the two Hogwarts Champions lay in a heap on the ground, covered in slush.

It was over. They had lost.

“That was fun,” Cedric panted. He sat up. His hair was frozen sticking up at an odd angle and Harry stifled a giggle at his expense. “However,” he continued, “I am absolutely freezing, not to mention soaking wet. So I’m heading inside.”

“Me too,” Harry agreed. He turned to the Weasleys. “Guys?”

As it turned out, the Weasleys, upon winning the battle and no longer having anyone to fight against, had turned on each other. Or rather, Fred and George had turned on Ron, who was trying desperately to put up a decent struggle. He wasn’t doing too good a job.

Harry and Cedric trudged through the snow back up towards the castle. Without even thinking about it, Harry almost reached out to hold Cedric hand as they walked. Thankfully he caught himself. Sneaking a kiss buried behind some snow didn’t seem as risky as holding Cedric’s hand for all to see.

“You boys sure got your asses handed to you,” Cho said pleasantly as Harry and Cedric approached them.

“Aw, Cho, you’re so sweet,” Cedric told her. “Come here and give me a hug.”

“Don’t touch me, you’re gross and soggy!” Cho exclaimed, pushing him so he was at arm’s length. “Nice hair, by the way.”

“Are you heading inside?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “G-gonna try and get warmed up.”

“Dirty,” Cho snickered. “We’re going to head off as well. Got to start getting ready for the big night.”

“It’s five o’clock,” Harry observed. “The ball doesn’t start for three hours. Do you really need all that time to get ready?”

“Harry, don’t question women about their grooming habits,” Cedric warned.

“Listen to Cedric, Harry,” Hermione said. “And get inside before you catch pneumonia or something.”

Harry nodded.

Rather than wait for the girls and walk in with them, the two boys sprinted back to the castle. Once they reached the entrance hall, they merely stood there, hopping anxiously from one foot to the other to stave off the chill.

“Now what do we do?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know,” Cedric replied. “I mean, I guess we could go back to our rooms, but…”

He didn’t finish the sentence aloud. It didn’t matter. Harry knew what he wanted to say; they could go back to their rooms, but he didn’t want to part yet.

“I know what you mean,” Harry said. Cedric smiled at Harry’s ability to perceive what he’d been thinking. “We need to go somewhere, though, I’m f-f-freezing.”

“Some place warm,” Cedric murmured. His eyes lit up. “Follow me!”

Cedric dashed across the entrance hall, over to the door beside the marble staircase. He hurried down the stairs, Harry following close behind. The stairway leveled off into a familiar wide corridor lined with paintings, all portraying food of some kind in vivid colors. They walked down the passage side by side and again Harry felt the urge to reach out for the other boy’s hand. Feeling bold now that they were in a more private setting, he did. Cedric looked at him.

“Lord, you have no self control,” he mocked. But he was smiling as he said it.

After a minute or so they reached the picture of a bowl of fruit, the one concealing the entrance to the kitchens. Harry knew what to do next: tickle the pear until the door handle appeared. To his surprise, Cedric reached out and did it before Harry could even move.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Harry asked.

“Are you kidding?” Cedric asked back. “The Hufflepuff dormitory is right down the corridor. Everyone in my house knows how to get into the kitchen.”

During this whole exchange, Cedric had been tickling the pear. It giggled, like it always did, then abruptly sprang out to form the doorknob. Harry looked around the corridor, wondering which of the many paintings there was hiding the entrance to the Hufflepuff dorm. He was pulled, literally, from his musings as Cedric led him into the kitchen.

Upon entering, the boys were hit with a wave of warm air. The house-elves were working at triple capacity to have things done for the Yule Ball and, as a result, the stoves were burning even hotter. It definitely made the kitchens the ideal place to go to warm up.

Seconds after they entered, the pair was accosted by Dobby.

“Harry Potter, sir!” he squealed. “And also Cedric Diggory as well! It is so good to see you both, sirs. How can Dobby be assisting you?”

Harry was about to answer when Cedric cut in.

“Actually, Dobby, we were just looking for a place to dry off and get warmed up,” he said. “Do you think that would be all right?”

“Most absolutely!” Dobby said. “Can Dobby fetch you some warm, dry towels? Would that help you sirs?”

“That’d be great, Dobby,” Harry told him. “Thanks.”

The boys headed over to one of the kitchen’s many hearths, a more private one that was not being used at the moment, while Dobby went off to get them towels. Harry stared at Cedric.

“How do you know Dobby?” he asked. “He mentioned you once before, I can’t believe I forgot about it until now.”

“You’ve sort of had a lot on your mind, what with the gorgeous boyfriend and all,” Cedric teased. Then he shrugged. “I come in here sometimes when I want to be alone. I like to cook, and the house-elves let me.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief.

“There’s so much I still don’t know about you, Cedric Diggory.”

“Less than you’d think,” Cedric responded. “Come on, let’s get out of these wet things.”

Doing as he was told, Harry set about removing his first few layers, including his jacket and sweater. He looked over and caught sight of Cedric peeling off his wet clothing.

“Here is your towels, sirs,” Dobby said, appearing as if out of thin air. He set down a pile of large, fluffy towels between them. “If you is needing anything else, simply call and Dobby will come.”

“Thanks Dobby,” a shirtless Cedric replied.

He took a towel for himself, then handed one to Harry. Harry blushed and took it, turning away quickly, but couldn’t stop himself from sneaking a few more peeks at his boyfriend’s uncovered skin.

They may have been dating for a month, but they still hadn’t gone much farther than kissing. There were a few quick gropes under each other’s shirts, but neither had removed any article of clothing in front of the other. In spite of this, Harry thought he had gotten a pretty good idea what kind of physique Cedric was hiding from those touches, and from having Cedric’s body pressed close to his during dance lessons and make out sessions.

A pretty good idea and the reality were, apparently, two very different things. In his head, Harry had already come to the conclusion that Cedric was in good shape. Now seeing him in nothing but his boxers, Harry could tell that “good shape” was an understatement. An extreme one. Harry’s heart thudded in his chest as he watched Cedric’s body twist and his arms stretch to wrap a large, warm towel around himself. Seeing Cedric in nearly full glory was enough to make Harry stop mid-strip, completely forgetting the cold, soggy clothing that still clung to his body.

“Harry?” Cedric asked with a sniff. “Hurry up, you don’t want to get sick on Christmas.”

Right. Because of his wet clothes. Because they were cold. Except could Harry no longer feel the cold that had been seeping into his bones only moments ago. On the contrary, he felt rather warm. And extremely embarrassed at the idea of Cedric seeing him in nothing but his underwear.

“Harry?”

“You know, I’m actually not that cold,” Harry said unconvincingly. Very unconvincingly, considering he was shaking as he said it.

“Oh, come on,” Cedric urged. “You got to see me strip, but I don’t get to watch you?”

Harry blushed even harder, and wondered faintly how he still didn’t feel cold even though nearly all of his blood seemed to be located in two very specific parts of his body.

“Y-you don’t want to see me strip,” Harry informed him.

Cedric stepped closer.

“You’re wrong,” he said deeply. “Now come on. I don’t want you getting sick before our own Christmas celebration tonight.”

Feeling extremely self-conscious, and shaking from more than just the cold, Harry nodded and removed the rest of his clothes until all that was left was his boxers. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at Cedric, because he didn’t want to see the older boy’s reaction to his small, scrawny frame. Then he felt Cedric’s hand reach under his chin and lift his head until their eyes locked.

“You are so gorgeous,” he said.

Then Cedric pulled Harry into his arms and wrapped his towel around the both of them.

 _Yep,_ Harry thought, sighing contentedly into his boyfriend’s muscular bare chest. _Best Christmas ever._

  



	16. The Night Was Alive

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

“The Night Was Alive”

  


The boys spent more than hour curled up together in front of the kitchen fireplace. At first, Harry was worried that they might distress the house-elves, all working hard to prepare the night’s feast. Soon he realized that his concern was misplaced, as the house-elves went about their business without so much as a glance at the two boys sitting near-naked in the middle of their work space.

Similarly misplaced were Harry’s fears that Cedric would be disappointed by his skinny body, which was much less impressive than his boyfriend’s. Quite the opposite, Cedric’s approval was obvious. Harry could feel it, from his position between Cedric’s legs as he was leaning into the older boy’s chest. He didn’t say anything about it, not knowing exactly what he **_should_** say, but he did blush when he realized what it was. Cedric didn’t say anything either, and Harry was grateful for that. He didn’t know if he was ready for a more physical relationship with his boyfriend yet. He was even less sure if, ready or not, he could possibly resist if Cedric propositioned him.

As the hour of the Yule Ball drew nearer, the boys realized that their chances of being caught in a compromising position became greater. They pulled on their clothes, which were now dry and comfortably warm, and exited the kitchens as discreetly as they could. (That is, after a prolonged goodbye from Dobby.)

It took a few more minutes for Harry to convince Cedric that not only was it impractical for him to walk Harry up to the Gryffindor Tower when his own dorm was down the hall, but that it would also look highly suspicious. It was only after Harry planted a very quick, very chaste goodbye kiss on him that Cedric finally let Harry go on his own.

By the time Harry reached his room, it was almost quarter to seven, a little over an hour before the Yule Ball would begin. More than enough time to get ready. Harry decided to get a shower in first. He undressed again and headed for the bathroom.

Standing under the warm, soothing cascade of water, Harry reflected on his Christmas so far. It was doing a decent job of outshining every Christmas he’d ever had, and the day wasn’t even over yet. During his time at Hogwarts, the number of people he cared for, and who cared for him, had grown significantly. Where four years ago he’d spent Christmas Day in his aunt and uncle’s kitchen helping prepare a feast that he was then forbidden from joining, today he’d spent it in the Hogwarts kitchen wrapped in the arms of a beautiful teen heartthrob, feeling absolutely secure and cared for.

After showering, Harry returned to his room. He immediately pulled on a pair of boxers. Then he caught a glimpse of himself in the room’s mirror. His hair was a bit damp, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses. There were streaks of water still on his skin that he missed while drying himself. A single drop of water rolled down his chest. Harry always hated his body. Even after a few years at Hogwarts, he was more underdeveloped than most boys, thanks to his summertime malnourishment. His oversized hand-me-downs from his cousin, on top of being a source of embarrassment, only served to make him look even skinnier.

Normally when Harry got out of the shower he dressed quickly so that he wouldn’t have to face what he looked like under his clothes. This time, he waited a minute. He stared at himself in the mirror, and remembered the smile Cedric got when he saw Harry’s body. The smile that said what you were looking at was everything you’d ever dreamed of and more. Harry couldn’t understand it. All right, maybe he wasn’t entirely revolting or anything. But he was still pretty bony.

Although, now that he thought about it, his shoulders had broadened out a bit since he came to Hogwarts. And his chest wasn’t quite as concave as he remembered. And were his eyes playing tricks on him, or did his tummy have the beginnings of a six-pack? His body wasn’t nearly as glorious as Cedric’s or anything, that was for sure. Yet, as he tried to see himself through his boyfriend’s eyes, Harry started to believe that maybe he did look good.

Without realizing it, a smile of Harry’s own had spread across his face. It wasn’t the same one Cedric had gotten while looking at Harry. It was a new smile. A satisfied smile.

From out of nowhere, a song crept into Harry’s mind. It was one of the more up-tempo songs that Cedric had played for him in the past few nights. Harry didn’t know all of the words, but he hummed the tune as he thought the ones he did.

  


_Life is a highway, I wanna ride it all night long._

_If you’re goin’ my way, I wanna drive you all night long._

  


Harry liked that song. It gave him wild thoughts of running off with Cedric and driving down an abandoned road in the middle of a sunlit desert somewhere. In a convertible. Top down, wind in his face, wearing sunglasses and beaming like the sun overhead. With Cedric’s arm draped over his shoulders.

That would be a treat.

Harry’s head bobbed in time with the music. He was looked rather silly, standing in front of the mirror in his boxers, bopping along to the music in his head, and he smiled more widely at his ridiculous behavior. He was about to stop and get dressed when he realized that he was going to have to dance in front of a huge portion of the Hogwarts student body before the night was over. If he couldn’t get past his inhibition in the privacy of his own room, there was no way he’d make it through the ball.

Trying for bold, Harry started moving his body, too. He still felt silly, but he was getting over it. He smiled shamelessly as he began full-out dancing to the music in his head. Harry didn’t know what possessed him. Maybe it was the natural high that came with such a fantastic Christmas. Maybe it was a byproduct of his feelings for Cedric. Whatever the reason, it felt great.

Goofy, but great.

Just then, Harry heard someone cough behind him. He froze, then turned and saw Ron standing in the open doorway, staring. His expression was a mix between amused and embarrassed.

“H-hey, Ron,” Harry stammered, his face growing uncomfortably hot.

“Hello, Harry,” Ron answered politely. He was doing his best to suppress a smirk. After a moment, he asked, “Were you just dancing around in your boxers?”

“…Yes.”

Ron nodded. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

“You probably want me to forget I saw that,” Ron hypothesized.

“Kinda,” said Harry.

Ron’s nod turned into a head shake with a grin as he said, “Yeah, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Figured as much,” Harry sighed.

Without another word about it, Harry began dressing for the ball while Ron went to take a shower. Dean, Seamus, and Neville turned up eventually and the five of them went about getting ready together. The boys all looked a little nervous about the evening they were facing. None, however, looked as nervous as Ron. His dress robes looked even worse on him than they did off. Harry wanted to say something reassuring but, judging by the look on his best friend’s face, knew there was nothing he could say to make the situation better.

Now he was fully dressed, Harry gave himself another look over in the mirror. Now that he was feeling slightly more comfortable about his appearance, he actually thought he looked good. Even his hair was decent for once. And, of course, his dress robes added a lot to the effect.

Then again, it was hard **_not_** to look good when you were checking yourself out in a mirror next to Ron in his dress robes.

“You, uhm – you look, uh… I mean you don’t look too, y’know,” Harry stammered, trying to find something encouraging to say to his friend.

The problem was that he didn’t want to lie. The dress robes looked slightly less feminine now that the lace had been Severed, except now instead of being laced the edges were horribly frayed. Plus they were still made of maroon velvet. Harry didn’t know much about fashion but he knew ugly when he saw it.

“Your hair looks **_really_** good,” Harry said at last.

“This is the worst thing anyone has ever been forced to wear in the history of clothing,” Ron said dismally.

“Oh, come on, I’m sure that’s not true,” Harry insisted. “There has to have been worse than that. For Merlin’s sake, have you seen the stuff they wore in the Eighties?”

“It’s maroon,” Ron groused, making a face.

“You love maroon,” Harry said.

“I hate maroon,” Ron countered.

Harry sighed.

“Yes, that’s right.” He patted his friend on the shoulder. “It’s not that terrible. And really, you’re fussing more about it than you should. I’m sure no one else will even notice.”

“Ron,” Dean said with a laugh, “what’s with the dress?”

“Thanks, Dean,” Harry muttered.

The other boys gathered around the mirror now as well, all giving themselves final look over before going downstairs to greet their dates. They had a hard time, however, looking at themselves instead of Ron.

“Seriously, though, is it a joke or something?” Seamus interjected. “You look like a fag, man.”

Ron’s ears turned a bright red that complimented his robes nicely. Under the pretense of adjusting the collar of his robes, Harry elbowed Seamus in the ear.

“Oh, sorry,” Harry said insincerely. “It’s getting crowded up here, I think I’m gonna head down.”

Turning from the mirror before anyone could respond, Harry exited quickly and hurried down the tower’s spiral stairs. Halfway to the bottom Ron caught up with him.

“You okay?” he asked.

Harry nodded.

“You?”

Ron also nodded.

No further conversation passed between them as they entered the Gryffindor common room. The array of colors that surrounded them, contrasting from the usual black robes they saw everyday, made Harry smile a little after what Seamus had said. However, it was not able to erase his embarrassment and disappointment. Harry knew Seamus was a bit ignorant and a lot intolerant, but he had never been on the receiving end of it, so it was easy to forget, especially after reading Wizardry and Homosexuality that day. Maybe the world wasn’t quite as open-minded as the book had led him to believe.

Through the thick multitude of colorfully dressed students, it was hard to pick a single face out. Harry was just wondering how he would find Parvati when she appeared right in front of him, decked out in intensely pink robes trimmed by glittering gold jewelry.

“Hi, Harry,” she said eagerly.

“Hi,” Harry replied. Parvati looked down at her robes, then back at Harry expectantly. “Er, you look nice,” he told her awkwardly.

Parvati laughed airily.

“Oh, thanks.” She turned to Ron. Her distaste for his dress robes was thinly disguised. “Padma’s going to meet you in the entrance hall.”

“Yeah,” Ron responded absently, looking around the common room. “Where’s Hermione?”

Parvati shrugged, paying as little attention to what he said as what he did to her.

“Shall we go down then, Harry?”

Without waiting for a response, Parvati grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him through the crowd. Ron trailed a few paces behind, still craning his neck to try and find Hermione.

The entrance hall, they found, was even more tightly packed than their common room. Nearly every fourth year and above was there waiting, plus some below who were escorting older students, like Ginny. Plus there were the students visiting from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Ron practically dove to the floor when Fleur Delacour passed them, not wanting to face her considering the way he embarrassed himself the last time. Harry doubted she even remembered Ron asking her to the ball, but kept this opinion to himself.

Despite the sheer density of the mob, they found Parvati’s sister, Padma, relatively quickly. Her robes mirrored Parvati’s in all but color; Padma’s were turquoise.

“Hello,” she said brightly, looking around at them all. Padma’s gaze landed on Ron and her face fell. Her low opinion of his dress robes was even more regrettably obvious than her sister’s.

“Hi,” Ron said, barely acknowledging his date or her disdain. “Has **_anyone_** seen Hermione?”

Both Patil sisters looked affronted. Harry, rather than answering, simply looked around the entrance hall. However, he couldn’t seem to spot her either.

Seeing everyone around him in dress robes made Harry wonder what Cedric would look like in his. And what Cedric would think about the way he, Harry, looked. Harry tried not to appear too eager as he searched around for his boyfriend.

Quite suddenly, Harry felt a slightly twinge of guilt for being on a date with a girl when he already dating someone else – a boy, no less. Or maybe it was because he was thinking about someone else while he was supposed to be on a date with Parvati. Probably both. It was stupid, Harry knew, because it wasn’t like he was completely leading her on or anything. They’d agreed to go to the Yule Ball together, that was all. They hadn’t committed to any future plans or anything. And it wasn’t even a date exactly, the word ‘date’ had never been used by either of them. So long as he didn’t lead her on in any way, make her think he was interested in more, Harry figured his conscience was clear.

At least he hoped so.

Before Harry could dwell on the matter any longer, he heard Professor McGonagall’s voice call from the other side of the crowd, “Champions over here, please!”

Yet again Harry was yanked through the massive assembly of students by Parvati. They met Professor McGonagall along with the other champions and their dates. Unfortunately, Harry and Parvati reached her before Cedric and Cho, who must’ve come up behind them soon after. Harry was about to sneak a glance behind them at Cedric when McGonagall snapped her fingers at him.

“Pay attention, Potter,” she barked. “Now, the eight of you are to wait here until the rest of the guests are inside and seated. At that time, you will enter in procession as pairs. Now, you all wait to the side here. I’ll return once everyone else is inside.”

Without another word, she swept off and disappeared into the throng.

Once she was gone, Harry turned. Standing very close behind him was Cedric, and beside him was Cho. Cedric’s dress robes were extremely well fit, a very dark, golden shade of yellow. Cho’s were a vibrant orangey red.

“Hey there,” Cedric said with a deep, sexy voice and a smile that made Harry’s stomach flutter.

“Hi, Harry,” Cho said, beaming. She touched his shoulder lightly. “You look hot.”

Harry tried not to blush. Whether it was from Cho’s compliment or the way Cedric was looking at Harry, with hunger in his eyes, was difficult to tell. Parvati looked slightly offended at the attention Cedric’s date had paid hers, and she pulled Harry a little closer. Cedric’s smile faltered.

“Having a good time, er, Parmela?” Cedric directed at Harry’s partner.

“It’s Parvati, actually,” she corrected, looking both coy from being addressed by the handsome sixth year boy and embarrassed that he had called her the wrong name.

“Oh, right,” Cedric murmured.

Harry was confused by this exchange. Surely he’d told Cedric his date’s name before. It was strange for Cedric to forget something like that.

Just then, Viktor Krum approached with his date, a beautiful girl in elegant blue dress robes. For a moment, Harry almost didn’t recognize her under her well-styled hair and flawlessly-applied make up.

“Hermione?” he said with surprised laugh.

“How do I look?” she asked with a smirk. “Cho gave me some pointers this afternoon. Thought I’d try something different for the ball.”

“And I suppose this is your mystery date,” Harry said, indicating Viktor. Viktor extended a hand to him.

“It is nice to meet you in formality,” he said in thickly accented English. “Hermy-own talks of you constantly.”

“Wish I could say the same,” Harry replied, casting a reproachful look at Hermy-own.

The news that Hermione spoke of Harry so often didn’t seem to do much to mollify Parvati’s annoyance at the attention her date was getting. She gripped his arm so tightly it began to hurt. The six of them stood in a loose circle; Parvati glowering at Hermione and Cho, Krum looking dubiously at Harry, and Harry and Cedric trying their best not to look at each other. The tension was reaching a dangerous level when, thankfully, Professor McGonagall returned and told them to line up.

“Professor,” Fleur piped up expectantly. “Is zair a specific order in which we are required to enter?”

McGonagall stared at her, lips thinning with impatience.

“No, Miss Delacour, you may enter in any order you like.”

Fleur smiled to herself, no doubt planning on making the grandest entrance. Professor McGonagall appeared to have inferred this herself, from the way she rolled her eyes mildly. She moved on without further comment.

Confirming Harry’s suspicion, Fleur took place at the front of the line with her date, Roger Davies. Krum and Hermione stepped up behind them. They were followed by Cho and Cedric, the latter of whom cast Harry one final glance before getting into position. He nodded subtly with a soft smile, which Harry returned.

Once Cedric faced forward, Harry found it hard not to stare at the boy standing in front of him. His dress robes nicely outlined the tight, muscular body Harry had gotten an eyeful of earlier that day. Unfortunately, Harry’s body began reacting to the memory of what he’d seen. Realizing that he was about to walk into a room full of people who would be staring at him, and that it might not be a good idea to do so with an erection, Harry looked away and tried to put the image of Cedric in his boxers out of his mind. It was hard – **_difficult_** to do, but he tried.

Minutes later, Fleur and Roger stepped into the Great Hall. The other champions and their dates followed close behind.

The more time he spent with Parvati on his arm, the less Harry found himself feeling bad about asking her to the ball while he was seeing someone else. It was clear from the way she waved to get the attention of everyone around her, and the way she barely even looked at Harry, that she only accepted his invitation so she could be Champion Harry Potter’s date. This was fine by Harry, if a littler annoying.

The Great Hall was opulently decorated, so much so that Harry hardly recognized it. It was like some kind of ice palace out of a fairy tale. For a brief, stupid moment he wondered how such a transformation could have taken place in the few short hours since lunch. Then he remembered, of course: magic. Being raised by Muggles made it all too easy to forget the astonishing things magic could accomplish.

Somehow Harry allowed himself to get roped into sitting next to Percy Weasley at the head table. Other than having to hear him go on about his new promotion as Mr. Crouch’s assistant, dinner went relatively well. In fact, Harry was quite at ease until he caught a snippet of Dumbledore describing a room he’d come across that morning. He nearly choked on his goulash when he heard it. If he wasn’t mistaken, the room that was being described sounded quite a bit like the Room of Requirement.

“What floor was this, Professor?” Harry asked in a would-be-casual manner once Dumbledore was finished telling his tale.

“The seventh floor,” Dumbledore answered. “Not too far from my office.”

Harry considered this. The headmaster’s office was only a few corridors away from the Room. For the first time since he and Cedric had claimed the room for themselves, Harry wondered what would happen if someone attempted to use it while they were in there. Was there a chance they could’ve been caught this entire time?

“Something the matter Harry?” Dumbledore asked, abruptly tearing Harry from his thoughts.

“No, sir,” Harry replied. “Just…just wondering what the room might have been.”

While Dumbledore went on about the benefits of such curiosity to Karkaroff, Harry glanced down the table at his boyfriend, who was immersed in conversation with Cho. They were laughing at some joke. All of a sudden Harry felt a jolt of envy. Cedric caught Harry’s eye and sent him a wink. Harry only nodded in response. He wasn’t sure why he was so bothered seeing Cedric and Cho having such a good time together. It never upset him seeing them together before.

Sooner than Harry would’ve liked, the meal was over, which meant it was time for the dance portion of the Yule Ball. With a gut-clenching feeling of trepidation, Harry stepped onto the dance floor. He placed his left hand on Parvati’s waist and held hers with his right. As the Weird Sisters cued up, Harry took a deep breath.

 _You can do this,_ he coached himself.

And, to his surprise, he could. It wasn’t exactly like dancing with Cho, and it certainly wasn’t like dancing with Cedric, but it was close enough. It was a bit like riding a broom; you may switch different models, but the mechanics were still the same no matter what. Harry tried to catch Cedric’s eye as he and Parvati twirled around the floor. However, Cedric did not take his eyes off of his own dance partner. They were smiling cheerily at each other. Again Harry felt a stab of jealousy.

“Lost, Potter?” a gruff voice questioned over Harry’s shoulder.

Harry looked around and saw Mad-Eye Moody waltzing with Professor Sinistra to his left. Embarrassed that he’d been caught staring, Harry smiled despite himself.

“No, Professor,” Harry answered. “Merely… ** _distracted_** …by the ball, and everything.”

“Mm,” Moody grunted. His magical eye zipped around the Great Hall. Harry was fairly certain that it lingered on Cedric and Cho, but couldn’t be certain in the dim lighting. “Yes, you do tend to become distracted, don’t you, Potter?”

Then, before Harry could scrutinize what Moody’d said too much, the man two-stepped away.

A few notes later, the song ended. As a new, faster one started up, Harry caught sight of Cedric and Cho, still dancing together and looking like they were having a thoroughly good time. In spite of Parvati’s protests, Harry stalked off the dance floor. He planted himself in a chair next to Ron and glared openly at his boyfriend dancing with another person.

Ron looked just as sullen that Hermione was with Viktor as the champion’s fangirls, the Viktorias, did. (Incidentally, they had all worn dark red dress robes, to match the Bulgarian Quidditch colors. They were strikingly similar to the color of Ron’s robes, causing him to look like a Viktoria himself.)

The Parvati twins were gone before either boy noticed.

“Women suck,” Ron grunted.

“Men aren’t so great either,” Harry replied.

A few minutes later, Hermione stopped by. Harry watched in silence as the tension between them grew and grew until it reached a boiling point and both stalked off. This suited Harry just fine. He could seethe perfectly well on his own.

That is, he could’ve, until Cedric and Cho came up to his table, short-breathed and grinning.

“Hey, Harry,” Cho greeted him. “Why aren’t you out there dancing?”

“Not really in the mood,” Harry gritted off. Cedric frowned at this, which filled Harry with both a sick satisfaction and a guilty pain.

“C’mon,” Cho said playfully, reaching for Harry’s hand to pull him onto the dance floor. “You look far too good to be so gloomy.”

“Stop,” Harry said, yanking his hand away.

“Harry, what’s the matter?” Cedric asked.

He knelt before Harry’s seat, looking so deeply concerned, so willing to do anything that might make Harry feel better. It made Harry feel that much worse.

“I’m fine,” Harry mumbled.

“Cedric, why don’t you go and fetch us some butterbeers?” Cho asked.

For a moment, Cedric didn’t answer. Then he stood and, after throwing a sad glance at Harry, headed toward the drink table. Cho sat down next to Harry and gazed out at the mass of people on the dance floor.

“What’s bothering you?” she asked bluntly.

“Nothing,” Harry snapped automatically.

“Dragonshit,” Cho replied smoothly. “Honesty. Please.”

Harry sighed.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I guess, seeing him with you, just sort of… I dunno. Made me,” Harry’s voice dropped drastically in volume, “jealous, or something.”

“Jealous or something?” Cho repeated skeptically. “Please, you should’ve heard Cedric.”

Harry’s head spun around to look at Cho.

“What do you mean?”

“Seeing you and Parvati?” she said. “He’s been out of his mind all night. It’s taken every ounce of my energy to keep him distracted. I mean, you saw. He barely contained his hostility toward her.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, thinking about how Cedric ‘forgot’ Parvati’s name. “I guess you’re right.”

“And anyway,” she went on, “you’re nearly all he’s been able to talk about all night.” Harry’s chest swelled at this.

“Really?”

“Are you kidding?” Cho asked. “I had to practically force him to stay on the dance floor when you sat down. He wanted to follow you straight off but I warned him it would look too suspicious. And I swear to God, if I hear him say, ‘He looks good, right?’ one more time, I will strangle him.”

Harry laughed. Seconds later, Cedric reappeared, carrying three butterbeers. He handed them to his companions and sat on Harry’s other side. After taking a gulp from his bottle, Cedric looked at Harry earnestly.

“You really look good tonight,” he said.

Harry and Cho exchanged glances, then burst out laughing.

“What?” Cedric cried.

“Nothing, Ricky,” Cho assured him. “Nothing.”

As the three of them drank their butterbeers and talked, Harry felt his bad mood fade away. The more time passed, the clearer it was that he’d been an idiot for feeling so jealous. Slowly, surreptitiously, Cedric slid his leg closer to Harry’s so they were pressed tightly together. It reminded Harry of the Weighing of the Wands, back before they were even dating. Back when soft touches and subtle glances were all they had. Their relationship had grown so much more since then. How could Harry have ever doubted it?

“That’s it,” Cho said suddenly. “I’m sick of this sittin’ around stuff. One of you poofs is gonna dance with me.” She stood and looked between the two champions, like she was sizing them up. Then, grabbing Harry’s arm, turned to Cedric and said, “I’m stealing your boyfriend.”

“I want him returned in the condition you found him!” was Cedric’s response.

Laughing harder than he expected to, Harry let himself be led out to the dance floor, much more willing than he had the first time. His night was definitely looking a whole lot brighter.

  



	17. Been a Long Day

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

“Been a Long Day”

  


“Wait, wait, I want to take a picture!”

Harry’s head spun as Cedric lifted him back up. The older boy had just dipped him unexpectedly, leaving Harry rather dizzy. Cho brandished the camera she’d pulled from her purse.

“Dip him again!” she demanded.

“Give me a minute to recover,” Harry chuckled.

The change in Harry’s attitude toward the ball after speaking with Cho was almost too dramatic to believe. All the jealousy and disappointment he’d been feeling vanished, and were replaced with an overwhelming sense of happiness.

He’d danced some with Cho, then with Cho **_and_** Cedric, which, in such a massive crowd was not at all strange. Okay, maybe the whole dipping thing was weird, but it was all in good fun. It’s not like he and Cedric had started making out on the dance floor. Cho tapped her foot impatiently.

“I haven’t got all night, Potter,” she snapped. Except Harry could hear the amusement in her tone.

Taking a deep breath, Harry nodded. Cedric wrapped one hand around Harry’s back and held Harry’s hand with the other, trying not to look too happy about it. Harry grabbed the arm holding his waist, bracing himself. An instant later, Harry fell backwards. If it had been anyone else doing it, he might have felt scared, even if just a little. But it was Cedric. There was no way he could not feel safe with him.

“Those are some fancy dance moves,” Harry heard someone say as he was picked back up.

From out of the packed horde emerged Hermione and Viktor Krum. Cedric immediately released Harry and took a step away.

“We were just messing around,” he said solemnly.

Krum nodded curtly, but made no comment about what they’d just seen.

“Well, now that they’ve finally gotten you out on the floor,” Hermione said to Harry, “I demand a dance!” She turned to Viktor and asked, “Is that all right with you?”

“Vell, I –” Krum looked like he wanted to protest but his manners got the better of him and he said, “Yes. Of course.” He did not, however, look too happy about it.

“Come on then,” Hermione said.

She dragged Harry a short distance away. The song that had been playing ended and a slower one started up. Harry went through the now-familiar motions, taking Hermione by the waist as her hands clasped behind his neck. It was nice, dancing with her. Not nearly as awkward as he’d thought it would be. It made her seem more sisterly than ever, in a good way.

“You’ve cheered up considerably,” she observed as the swayed on the dance floor.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Why shouldn’t I? It’s a good ball.”

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed, though there was something less certain in her tone. Harry knew it had something to do with her and Ron’s argument, but decided not to press. If she wanted to talk about it, she would.

The rest of the ball was more of the same; dancing, laughing, friends enjoying each other’s company. Midnight came almost too soon.

It was funny, considering how disgruntled Harry had been at eight o’clock, how disappointed he was when the Weird Sisters played their final song. In spite of the crowd’s loud protestations, the students filed out of the Great Hall obediently, though dejectedly.

On his way out, Harry felt someone tap him on the shoulder. Cedric, of course. He pulled Harry into a corner of the entrance hall, glancing around to make sure they weren’t seen. They weren’t; everyone else was too wrapped up in saying goodnight to their own dates to notice anyone else. With the lighting in the hall so dim, and the corner they were standing in so dark, Harry threw caution to the wind. He stood up on his tiptoes to kiss his boyfriend. Cedric pulled away hastily.

“What are you doing?” he asked, trying to sound stern but unable to keep a smile from his lips.

“You look too good,” Harry answered simply. “Couldn’t resist.”

“Well, try,” Cedric said, chuckling a bit.

He looked over his shoulder and, satisfied that they weren’t being watched, took hold of Harry’s waist and pulled the smaller boy close. Harry rolled his eyes.

 _Hypocrite,_ he thought. However, this thought did not keep Harry from bringing his hands up to play with Cedric’s collar.

“So, I was thinking,” Cedric began. “I’ll walk Cho back to her dormitory, to keep up the appearance that she’s actually my date—”

“—plus she’ll probably kill you if you don’t,” Harry interrupted.

“Totally,” Cedric replied. “I’ll do that, and then I’ll change out of my dress robes into something more comfortable and meet you up in the Room of Requirement for our gift exchange. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” Harry approved. “Just try not to let Cho keep you for too long.”

“Please. **_You_** try reasoning with that girl.” Cedric considered this a moment. “Actually, you probably could. She adores you.” His eyes roved over Harry’s body. “Not that I blame her.”

Harry blushed. He couldn’t help it. Every time Cedric looked at him that way his stomach got all twisted with pleasure and all his blood rushed to either his face or, well, someplace in the opposite direction. He pushed Cedric away.

“Go,” he insisted. “The sooner you drop her off, the sooner we can meet up and start our own Christmas.”

“Can’t wait,” Cedric said.

Then, with a quick wink, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

After taking a moment to compose himself, and let certain parts of his anatomy to become less excited, Harry departed from the darkened corner. He took the steps of the marble staircase two at a time, eager to change and get to the Room of Requirement as quickly as possible. Then he realized Cedric was taking Cho up to the Ravenclaw Tower, then going back down to the Hufflepuff dormitory below the ground floor before heading all the way back up to the seventh floor. There was no reason at all for Harry to rush. He could probably crawl and still make it to the Room before Cedric. Even after realizing this, though, Harry couldn’t help making his way up to the Gryffindor Tower a little faster than usual. The tightly wound ball of nervous, excited energy in his chest wouldn’t let him go any slower.

It took several attempts to wake the Fat Lady when Harry reached her. In fact, it wasn’t until a pack of no less than a dozen Gryffindors had gathered outside the painting, shouting a chorus of “Fairy lights!” that she finally roused enough to open for them. Harry was the first to scramble through the portrait hole. He sprinted up the staircase to the boys’ dormitory, tripping over the hem of his dress robes twice in the process.

Harry flew into the room, not even noticing that he wasn’t alone until a sullen voice said, “Hey.” Harry whirled around and saw Ron lying in bed, still wearing his shabby maroon robes.

“Hey,” Harry replied, winded.

He yanked his dress robes over his head and threw them unceremoniously onto the floor. Thinking better of this, he scooped them up and laid them out on his bed, then began searching for something else to wear. Like pants. He should probably wear pants. Some shoes would be a good idea, too. And socks.

“How was the ball?” Ron asked in a dull, monotonous voice.

“It was great,” Harry said, still scrambling to get ready. “Where were you, anyway?”

“Went for a walk,” Ron answered tersely.

“Oh?” Harry responded absently. “That’s cool.”

“Not really,” he heard Ron murmur. The words hardly registered, given the frenzy Harry was in.

 _What am I missing, what am I missing?_ Harry thought to himself. _Got the presents, I’m wearing pants… A shirt! Riiight._

As Harry searched through a pile of laundry for something clean enough to wear, Ron gave a little cough and sat up.

“Oh, right,” he said, “there’s, uh, something I need to tell you. Something I overheard on my walk. It’s really weird, actually, I–”

“I’m sorry, Ron, but can it wait?” Harry asked, pulling a somewhat clean T-shirt over his head. “I don’t want to be late. You can just tell me in the morning, right?”

Ron frowned.

“Yeah,” he said. “Sure. Okay.”

Clearly it wasn’t okay. Harry knew that. And if it were any other day, any other moment, Harry might’ve slowed down and asked Ron what was wrong. But he’d been looking forward to this all week.

So instead he muttered a quick thanks and bade Ron goodnight, dashing out of the room before his best friend had a chance to respond.

Harry was very cautious as he made his way along the seventh floor corridor. He realized too late that he’d forgotten his Invisibility Cloak, but did not want to go all the way back to get it. It didn’t take him long to reach the Room of Requirement’s location. He decided to just do the three paces quickly and get inside before anyone could see him out of bed so late.

With each pass by the stretch of blank wall, Harry filled his mind with Christmassy thoughts; pine trees, stockings, a roaring fire. All the things he’d never gotten to experience himself until coming to Hogwarts.

 _Give us a place t celebrate Christmas,_ he thought desperately. _It doesn’t have to be too fancy, just a nice, cozy place for the two of us._

On the third pass the door appeared, as it always did. Harry turned the doorknob and entered. The room he found inside was simply decorated, yet beautiful just the same. It was smaller than Harry was used to it being, no bigger than his an average bedroom. Opposite the door there was now a small arched window which looked out over the snow-covered grounds. Against the left wall was was the familiar large couch that the Room had provided for Harry and Cedric often before. A thick, gray blanket was draped over one of the arms. In the corner to Harry’s right stood a Christmas tree covered in red and green baubles, gold tinsel, and multicolored lights. The lights were powered, of course, by magic rather than electricity. At the top of the tree was a shining silver star. Beside the tree was a fireplace with, as Harry had imagined, a roaring fire, the only source of light in the room other than the window and the lights on the tree. There were even two green stockings attached to the hearth with the names **_Harry_** and **_Cedric_** embroidered on them in red. Harry gave a short, astonished laugh when he saw these.

 _This room really does provide everything, doesn’t it?_ he thought, amused.

Between the tree and the fireplace was the same stereo that the boys had been using for the past week. While he waited for Cedric to arrive, Harry put on some music and laid back on the couch. But he was too anxious to sit still, even for a whole song. Harry shifted in his seat half a dozen times before getting up from the couch entirely. He paced around the room once before deciding to place his presents for Cedric under the Christmas tree. Then he played with their positions a few times before he was struck with the idea to place the Bertie Bott’s in Cedric’s stocking.

Harry was just on the verge of doing this when he heard the door open. Looking over he saw Cedric, now changed into a hooded sweatshirt and jeans with a couple of presents tucked under one arm, closing the door behind him. (The inward side of the door, Harry now noticed, had a Christmas wreath with a large red bow hung on it.) Seeing the two gifts Cedric held, Harry immediately grateful that Hermione insisted that he get two.

“Wow,” was all Cedric could say as he gaped at the room’s decorations. His eyes settled on Harry and he asked, gesturing around at the adornments, “Did you do all this?”

“I guess so,” Harry shrugged. “I asked for a place for us to celebrate. Didn’t know what to expect.”

“Well, you did good,” Cedric told him. “Or the room did, anyway.” He approached Harry and kissed him on the forehead. “Hi,” he murmured softly against Harry’s scar.

“Hi,” Harry replied.

Holding up his two packages, one medium sized and the other rather small, Cedric asked, “What should I do with these?”

“Well, we could exchange right now,” Harry suggested slyly. His hands crawled slowly up Cedric’s chest before making a sudden snatch for the gifts he held in each hand.

“Not so fast,” Cedric said, pulling them out of reach. “I’ve had to watch you dance with my best friend all night. It’s **_my_** turn to have a go at you now.”

“All this dancing,” Harry quipped, rolling his eyes. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

Cedric looked about for a place to stash his presents. Then, after a moment, he decided to put the smaller one in Harry’s stocking, and the other under the tree. Harry noted that both he and Cedric had come to the same conclusion on their own. Though Harry liked that they’d done so, he did not like that he was going to have to wait even longer to see what Cedric got for him. Cedric changed CDs and put on a song Harry’d never heard before. It sounded old. Much older than anything Cedric had played for him in the last few days.

“One dance,” Cedric said as he pulled Harry into his arms. “Then presents. ‘kay?”

Rather than give verbal agreement, Harry merely sank into Cedric’s embrace. He rested his head on Cedric’s shoulder. Harry had to admit, he sort of wanted one dance, too. A man’s voice sang.

  


_That certain night, the night we met, / There was magic abroad in the air,_

_There were angels dining at the Ritz / And a nightingale sang in Berkley Square._

  


It wasn’t a bad tune, actually. Old, maybe, but with a sense of timeless romanticism. And Harry was glad, as he wrapped one arm around Cedric’s waist and the other around his shoulders, that his last dance of the night was with his boyfriend.

“As nice as this is,” Harry sighed, “I think I’m going to be glad to be done with dancing for a while after tonight.”

Cedric laughed.

“You’ll keep a dance for me once in a while, though, right?” he asked.

“Well, that goes without saying.”

“Good.”

In hardly any time at all, the song finished. Seemingly satisfied, Cedric gave Harry a quick squeeze before pulling away. He went back to the stereo and put in another CD. Harry immediately recognized the singer: Sarah McLachlan. Cedric had played him a few of her songs before. She had a beautiful voice, and her music was quite nice. A good choice for their exchange, Harry thought.

“Is it time for presents now?” Harry asked, hoping he didn’t sound too eager, even though he was.

Cedric made a face, like he was taking the question into very serious consideration.

“That depends,” he said. “Do you think you’ve been a good boy this year?”

“It depends on what you mean by ‘a good boy,’” Harry replied suggestively.

“Well, if I meant that kind of good, then, yeah, definitely,” Cedric laughed. He knelt beside the Room’s tree and motioned for Harry to join him.

The boys exchanged packages, grinning sheepishly at each other. Harry’s heart fluttered. His first present from a boyfriend! And to think, a year ago he didn’t even know he liked boys. He looked at the card, which was more a slip of parchment attached to the bow than a real card. It said, in green ink:

  


_To My Green-Eyed Boy,_

_Happy Christmas!_

_From,_

_Your Hufflepuff Hottie_

  


Without waiting to see if Cedric was opening his present yet, Harry tore at the brightly colored paper. Cedric watched him nervously. Under the paper was a long, rectangular box. Harry tore off the top and found –

A sweater. And not just any sweater. The exact same sweater he’d purchased for Cedric, but instead of green, this one was a dark gray.

A small giggle welled up in Harry’s chest. He fought it down but was not very successful. The giggle turned into a rolling laughter. Cedric looked hurt by Harry’s reaction, which normally would’ve made Harry stop laughing right out, except he couldn’t!

“I didn’t – I mean, do not like it?” Cedric asked with a pained expression.

“O-open y-yours-s-s,” Harry said in the midst of his breathless laughter.

Unmistakably peeved, Cedric unwrapped Harry’s gift and opened an identical box to find a nearly identical sweater inside. For a moment, he appeared to be too stunned to speak. Then, precisely as Harry had, Cedric broke into a fit of hysterical laughter.

“Well, at least now I know I have good taste,” he supposed. “Ohh, but I should’ve gotten you green, as well!”

“No way!” Harry protested. “We can’t walk around in matching sweaters, we don’t want to be one of **_those_** couples. Besides, I like my gray sweater. It reminds me of your eyes.”

“And this one reminds me of yours,” Cedric replied, holding his sweater up. “In fact…”

Cedric yanked off his hoodie, replacing it with his new sweater. Harry readily did the same. The boys sat in their almost-matching sweaters, smiling at each other.

“Brilliant. Thank you, Harry.”

“We’re not done yet!” Harry exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

Harry rushed over to the fireplace and took down his and Cedric’s temporary stockings. He handed Cedric the one with his name on it, and kept the one with his own. They both dove into their stockings, pulling out their remaining gifts. The parcel Harry found was another box, but much smaller, and harder. This time, though, he decided to let Cedric unwrap first.

“Oh, excellent, Bertie Bott’s!” Cedric said.

“Not just that,” Harry said, leaning over to point out the writing on the package. “It’s one of those special orders: all spicy flavors.”

“Aw, yes!” Cedric cried. His face sparkled with happiness. “This is so cool. Thanks!” He gave Harry a quick peck on the lips, then said, “All right, your turn now.”

“Oh, well, if you insist,” Harry said.

Ripping off the wrapping paper, Harry found a smallish, hard box covered in a velvety material. It looked like the boxes that the jewelry his uncle gave his aunt came in. A bit bewildered, Harry opened the box.

“Oh, Cedric.”

“Do you like it?”

Nestled inside the box was a Snitch, but unlike any Harry had seen before. It was slightly smaller than a normal one, and was silver with bronze wings, instead of the gold with silver wings. And it was on a long chain.

It was a necklace.

Cedric had gotten him a necklace. Harry’s heart leapt into his throat.

“It’s – it’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever given me,” Harry said honestly. He tore his eyes away from the Snitch to gaze up at Cedric, who looked like Harry’s reaction was the best gift he’d gotten all night. “Thank you, so much!”

“It’s really cool, actually, because it’s still a working Snitch,” Cedric explained. “If you take it off the chain, it’ll fly around and stuff. And you can use your wand to direct it, like, uh, one of those toys that Muggles have, you know, the cars that drive around on their own?”

“Remote-control?” Harry offered.

“Yeah, that’s it!” Cedric said. “The remote-control cars. And it opens! And you can put stuff in it, like, well, not much, obviously. But a note or, I dunno, a key or something small. It’s got the same touch-memory as a real Snitch, so it’ll only open for you.”

“And you,” Harry cut in. “I want it to open for you, too.”

Cedric beamed.

“Really?”

“Of course,” Harry insisted. “You’re my boyfriend, and the person who got it for me. I can’t imagine not sharing it with you. Do you think we can do that, though?”

“I’m sure we can, actually,” Cedric replied, “because I read the instructions about fifty times. We need to touch it at the same time, and one of us needs to tap it with his wand and say, ‘Set,’ and then it’ll only open for us. Then to change who can open it, one of us would tap it and say, ‘Reset,’ then set it again.” He laughed. “There’s even a death clause to it – if one of the people it allows to open it dies, it’s automatically reset.”

“Looks like they thought of everything,” Harry said, lifting the silver Snitch out of its box. It was smooth and cool to the touch. “I didn’t bring my wand, did you?”

Cedric pulled his wand out of the pouch pocket in the front of his sweatshirt.

“You should never go anywhere without you wand, Harry,” Cedric scolded.

Rolling his eyes, Harry held the silver Snitch up between them. Cedric touched his left index finger to it, right up against Harry’s fingers. Harry’s mind flashed on Cedric’s finger pressing up against his during their Portkey journey together back in August. Was it really only four months ago that they’d traveled to that campsite together? So much happened in that short amount of time.

“Okay, you ready?” Cedric asked.

Harry nodded, and Cedric pressed the tip of his wand to the button on the underside of the Snitch, muttering, “Set.” He pulled away, leaving the silver Snitch in Harry’s hand. Harry tried the small button, and the Snitch immediately snapped open. Grinning, he closed the thing and passed it to Cedric, who also opened it successfully. Cedric returned the Snitch to Harry, who opened and closed the small object over and over, never tiring of it.

“This is so cool,” Harry marveled. “I would have been happy if it was simply a plain necklace, but this… I love it, I really do. I – thank you, Cedric. Really, just—”

He grabbed Cedric’s face and kissed him five times in rapid succession. Cedric chuckled into Harry’s mouth.

“Only now I feel stupid,” Harry said, looking again at the Snitch necklace. “I got you a bag of Bertie Bott’s and you … you got me this.”

“Hey, I like my Bertie Bott’s!” Cedric contended, rubbing Harry’s thigh.

A thought raced through Harry’s mind. A good one.

“Still,” Harry said, closing the jewelry box and putting it aside. He took Cedric’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “I feel kind of like I owe you.” Slowly, deliberately, he led Cedric to the couch. Harry’s eyes never left his boyfriend’s.

“Well,” Cedric grinned, catching the gist of Harry’s actions, “if you’re so inclined, I don’t want to deprive you.” He sat down on the couch, pulling Harry into his lap. “After all,” he said as he wrapped his arms around Harry, “it is Christmas. And what is Christmas if not a time for giving?”

“Exactly,” Harry concurred.

Harry dipped his head, and Cedric leaned up, their mouths meeting halfway. Harry braced himself against the back of the couch while Cedric’s hands ran up and down his back. After what could have been either a few minutes or a few hours for all Harry knew (or cared), Cedric shifted so that he was lying across the length of the couch, Harry still with a leg on each side of his midsection.

Things developed rapidly from there. Soon their sweaters and T-shirts were piled on the floor beside them. It was a new level of intimacy for them, and they both took full advantage, hands roaming uninhibited. When Harry kissed Cedric's neck, the older boy groaned. Loudly. Harry grinned, knowing the boy's neck was particularly sensitive.

Their embrace grew more and more heated. Too heated. Blindingly so, in fact. Before long, and without any warning at all, Harry found himself overwhelmed, to the point where –

“Oh! …Oh no.”

He sat up, still straddling Cedric's waist, and buried his face in his hands.

“Oh God, oh God, oh, God,” he murmured into his fingers. Harry could feel how hot his face was beneath them. “I’m sorry. I’m **_so_** sorry. I didn’t mean to, it just happened, I sort of lost control, I’m such an –”

His hands were pulled away from his face, forcing Harry to look Cedric in the eyes. They were clouded over with concern.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Cedric asked. “Was it not, I mean, was it … okay?”

“It was a little too okay, I’m afraid,” Harry replied bitterly. His face grew even hotter as his embarrassed blush deepened. “I sort of, uh… I kind of…”

Cedric grinned lazily, cheekily.

“I noticed,” he exhaled, raising an eyebrow. “It was pretty hot.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Harry muttered. “I’m glad you enjoyed the show. At least one of us was amused by it—”

“Harry,” Cedric interrupted, sitting up quickly. “You don’t get it: you’re not the only one made, er, a mess just now.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Harry asked, thrown.

“I told you,” Cedric shrugged. “It was pretty hot. Seeing you – seeing you like that… I sort of lost control, too.”

And suddenly, Harry wanted to laugh. So he did. And he kissed Cedric, not out of sexual desire, but from pure joy. What could have been embarrassing, mortifying even, was unexpectedly wonderful. Just like his feelings for Cedric in the first place.

“Happy Christmas,” Harry breathed against Cedric’s cheek.

“And you,” Cedric replied. “Even though it hasn’t been Christmas for,” Harry felt him shift to check his watch, “an hour and forty-two minutes.”

“Is that what time it is?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Cedric said. “Long day, huh?”

Harry grunted derisively in response.

“It’s felt more like a year,” he remarked.

“I know the feeling,” Cedric agreed.

After tidying themselves up, the boys settled back down on the couch, Harry with his head resting on Cedric’s still-bare chest, listening to the boy’s heart thump through his ribcage. The fire was burning just as strong as ever. The cracking and snapping of the wood was deeply soothing. And after Cedric pointed out what a long day it’d been, Harry did feel very tired.

He didn’t even have time to take off his glasses before he was fast asleep.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


“Harry?”

A gentle yet persistent nudging slowly coaxed Harry awake. He opened his eyes, peering around blearily. His glasses had been removed. He could still tell that the fire had burned out, though. Judging from the blackened, dry look of the wood, it’d been some time ago. Harry could also tell that the room was now brightly lit by gray sunlight streaming in through the window.

“Cedric?” he mumbled groggily. “Wus’goin’ on?

“We fell asleep,” Cedric replied. “Well, you fell asleep, and I took your glasses off because I wanted to let you rest a little while. Plus,” he added guiltily, “you looked really cute while you were sleeping. Except I think then I fell asleep, too.”

Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes. The Room seemed a lot colder in the daylight. While still beautiful, the decorations had lost some of their shine.

“What time is it?” Harry asked. His voice still wasn’t entirely awake yet. Then again, neither was he.

“Eleven,” Cedric answered with a glance at his watch. “A little after. We missed breakfast, but we also missed the crowds of people returning to their common rooms from the Great Hall. I think we should be able to sneak out unnoticed.”

Nodding mutely, Harry stood up, stumbled, and then regained his balance. He cracked his neck, which woke him up considerably. Catching sight of Cedric’s naked torso, he remembered the full details of the night before and smirked a little as he pulled his new sweater on. Harry grabbed his discarded T-shirt as well, next to which was the jewelry box Cedric had given him. He picked it up and opened it carefully. The necklace inside was just as stunning as the night before. Not wanting to wait another second to wear it, Harry pulled it out and threw the chain around his neck. The silver Snitch settled over his heart.

“It looks good,” Cedric told him.

“Not to toot your own horn,” Harry mocked.

“Why would I, when I have you to do it for me?” Cedric quipped.

“Dirty,” Harry snickered.

Shaking his head with a quiet laugh, Cedric went over to the door. He opened it a crack and surveyed the corridor beyond.

“It doesn’t look like there’s anyone out there right now,” he announced, looking around at Harry. “So I’m going to go now, cuz it’s much more suspicious for me to be on the seventh floor than you. Okay?”

Harry shrugged.

“Whatever you think is best.”

“Okay.” Cedric looked out again quickly before turning to give Harry a brief goodbye kiss. “I’ll see you later.”

Then he was gone, closing the door behind him. Harry waited a minute before departing as well. He cast a final glance around the Room of Requirement first. It really was lovely, with the Christmas decorations and all. Harry wasn’t sure if he’d ever see the Room this exact way again, and he wanted to remember it. Especially the couch. Once he was satisfied, he opened the door and departed without looking back. He didn’t need to check to know that the door was gone.

Harry felt exceedingly obvious walking back to the Gryffindor Tower . Every person he passed seemed to stare lingeringly. It was only his imagination though. There was no way anyone could know where he’d slept last night. Or what he’d been doing immediately before falling asleep, either.

Crossing through the portrait hole into the common room, Harry saw Hermione sitting in an armchair beside the fireplace. Reading, of course. She glanced up when Harry entered, looking quite surprised to see him.

“Harry!” Hermione said. “Where have you been? Ron said you weren’t there when he woke up this morning.” Her gaze lingered on Harry’s chest. “Nice necklace, by the way.”

Harry looked down at the silver Snitch resting over his heart, and smiled.

He had a lot to tell her.

  



	18. What Time is It?

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

“What Time is It?”

  


11:32 AM

December 26th

Gryffindor Common Room

Five days, twelve hours, and twenty-three minutes to the New Year.

  


Telling Hermione about his night out went a lot faster than living it. Looking back, Harry realized that not a lot transpired, really. They danced. They exchanged presents. They got, well… horizontal. It was difficult for Harry to gauge what Hermione was thinking when he got to that part. This was partially because he was being very careful not make eye contact while relaying the dirty details. It was an awkward subject, for the both of them.

It was also hard to guess what she was feeling because as they spoke Harry was playing with his silver Snitch locket, making it whiz around the room and, sometimes, close by Hermione’s head. She did not seem to like this, and that attitude tended to affect her expression.

“I’m glad you had a, er, good night,” Hermione said when he was finished, “but, Harry, listen….”

“Let me guess,” Harry interrupted. “You’re concerned that I’m too young or something, am I right?”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Hermione responded. “If you think you’re ready for an intimate physical relationship –”

“Can you not call it that?”

“—then I trust you. I’m only concerned because… Well, have you even told Cedric about Sirius yet? Or told Sirius that you’re," she paused, and said, “that you play Quidditch?”

Harry frowned.

“No. Not yet,” he added as an afterthought. Before Hermione could say anything, he rushed on, defensively, “I’ve been busy! It’s been Christmas and I’ve was trying to learn how to dance and I didn’t really have time to think about much else except that and presents and everything.”

“Okay, okay,” Hermione said.

“I’ll do it,” Harry told her. “Soon.”

“All right,” Hermione replied. “I’m only saying this because I’m your friend, you know. I don’t want to see you get hurt, either of you. An intim- that thing you have, it can change things.”

“I’ll be fine, Hermione,” Harry snapped.

His hand twitched, causing the Snitch to buzz within an inch of Hermione’s nose. Her face jolted backwards, giving Harry a twinge of satisfaction that he immediately felt guilty about. He did know that Hermione was only looking out for him, trying to do what was in his best interest. That didn’t mean he was happy to hear what she had to say. Mostly because everything she was saying was exactly what Harry was feeling.

Whether he said admitted it or not, Harry had been avoiding telling Cedric and Sirius about each other. He couldn’t put his finger on why exactly. He didn’t like to think about it too much. He knew he was going to have to. But not yet. At least not until break was over. And as for what she said about their ‘intimate physical relationship’, that was something that’d been bothering Harry all morning. What if Hermione was right? What if it did change things?

Instead of worrying himself too much, Harry added this to the growing list of Things He Wasn’t Thinking About Right Now. As an alternative to worrying, Harry played with his Snitch some more, flicking his wand in a figure eight and watching the way the silver trinket shimmered in the firelight. Harry’d never had a toy growing up, let alone one as amazing as the Snitch. He probably could’ve spent all of Christmas break simply watching it fly about the room. In between kisses from the boy who’d given it to him, of course.

“So how was the rest of your night?” Harry asked idly. Hermione frowned, and turned slightly pink. Concerned and intrigued, Harry directed the Snitch into his open palm so he could give her his undivided attention. “Did something happen?”

Apparently Hermione’s evening had been as eventful as his own. Though she tried to downplay the severity of her and Ron’s argument, Harry could tell it had been bad. Puffy eyes and a hoarse voice were common symptoms among those who’d attended the Yule Ball, but Hermione’s were much worse than any he’d seen so far that morning. He should’ve noticed it sooner. Not for the first time, Harry felt a sharp pang of guilt for the fact that his relationship with Cedric seemed to be coming first a lot these days.

“Are you guys okay now?” he asked.

Hermione shook her head.

“He barely said a word to me this morning,” she replied. “I passed him coming back from breakfast and asked where you were. He grunted that you weren’t in bed this morning and kept walking.”

“That might be more my fault, actually,” Harry admitted. “He had something to tell me last night and I sort of blew him off. I was in a hurry to get up to the Room of Requirement.”

“Not a good night for the three of us,” Hermione noted with a sad laugh.

“The ball made everyone crazy,” Harry said. “Thankfully we won’t have to worry about that anymore.”

At that moment, Fred and George burst into the common room like an explosion.

“We’re having another ball!” Fred announced.

Harry turned to Hermione.

“Why do I have to open my mouth?” he asked her.

“We’ve been in McGonagall’s office all morning,” George began. “‘Obviously,’ we said, ‘the ball was a smashing success.’”

“And obviously she agreed,” Fred chimed in.

“Obviously. So we proposed a repeat performance, of sorts.”

“It wouldn’t be a ball, per se,” Fred explained. “More like a party. Still music, still dancing, but much less formal.”

“A shindig, if you will,” George opined.

“Oh, I like that,” Fred replied. “Yes, a shindig.”

“A shindig,” Hermione cut in, “taking place when?”

“Why, New Year’s Eve, of course!” George declared.

Fred unfurled a purple poster he’d been holding rolled up in his hands. On it was advertised:

  


_New Year’s Eve Party!_

_The Great Hall_

_9 PM to 1 AM_

  


_Food, drinks, music, dancing. Casual dress._

_ALL AGES WELCOME!_

  


_Admission: 7 sickles_

  


“Seven sickles?” Hermione read off the last line. “You have to pay admission?”

“Parties don’t come cheap, Hermione,” George said sagaciously.

“We of all people know that,” Fred added as he pinned the poster to the bulletin board.

“The Triwizard Committee paid for the Yule Ball,” George said. “McGonagall said that the only way we could throw a party would be if students contributed. Hence, admission.”

“We’re gonna drop the lights at midnight,” Fred went on, “so that anyone who wants to get in a good New Year’s kiss can, er, be discreet.”

He looked at Harry and winked. Harry, having no idea what to make of this gesture, simply made due with trying not to gape awkwardly.

“Well, we must be off,” George said. He gestured to the rolls of purple parchment Fred was holding. “Got to get the word out.”

“We’ll see you two at the party, if not sooner,” Fred reckoned. “Lots to do, getting a shindig in order.”

And, almost as quickly as they’d appeared, the Weasley twins were back out through the portrait hole. There was four seconds of dead silence before the entire common room started buzzing about this new development. Harry and Hermione stared at each other.

“Maybe it’ll be fun,” Hermione posited.

After holding his disbelieving stare for another moment, Harry went back to playing with his Snitch.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


7:19 PM

December 27th

Hogwarts Library

Four days, four hours, and forty-one minutes to the New Year.

  


Despite the fact that their return to classes was still far off, Hermione insisted on getting a jump start on the work that they had been assigned over break. What made matters worse was that Cedric was almost as devoted to doing well in school as she was. So now Harry was getting pressure to do his homework from two sources. This was how, the Sunday evening after Boxing Day, Harry came to be in the library, working on his Transfiguration essay. On the bright side, with both Hermione and Cedric to help him, the work was going rather quickly. For first time since coming to Hogwarts, Harry was going to finish his holiday work early instead of trying to cram it in at the very end.

In addition to this benefit, Cedric and Hermione were getting along very well. At one point they became so animated while discussing magical theory that Madam Pince had to come over and shush them. (Actually, at first she shushed Harry, assuming he had been the source of the disturbance, and then was deeply confused to discover that it had been two of Hogwarts’ best and brightest making all the noise.)

“So you took Muggle Studies?” Cedric asked.

“In my third year,” Hermione nodded. “And I found it fascinating, really, but when you pass an exam with three-hundred and twelve percent, it’s clear that you don’t need to be taking the class.”

“That was you!?” Cedric laughed. “Professor Burbage talks about you all the time. She’s never mentioned you by name, though. I should have figured. You set the bar pretty high for the rest of us, you know.”

“I was raised by Muggles,” Hermione said in her own defense. “I had an unfair advantage.”

“Yeah, she never mentioned **_that_** either,” Cedric grumbled. He turned to Harry. “How’s the essay coming?”

“One roll of parchment down,” Harry answered, “one to go. Not bad. I just need to go into theory of how to change creatures back when performing Cross-Species Switches and I’ll be done with Transfiguration.”

“Good boy,” Cedric said, pressing his knee affectionately against Harry’s under the table.

“Now, doesn’t it feel better to get your work done earlier rather than later?” Hermione asked haughtily.

Harry tried to glare at her, but couldn’t keep up an angry face because she was right. It did feel better. He only wished Ron had been willing to join them. Ron, however, thought it would be a more productive use of his time to play Exploding Snap with Dean and Seamus.

“So, what do you all think about this New Year’s Eve party of the Weasleys’?” Cedric mused. “Sounds like it could be fun.”

“Fred and George never disappoint,” Harry agreed. “Wish I could bring a date,” he added, looking Cedric pointedly in the eye.

“Me too,” Cedric said with equal emotion.

Hermione rolled her eyes at them.

“You two are so obvious,” Hermione said. “It’s almost painful to watch.”

Harry blushed and looked away. Were they really that obvious? Had anyone noticed their interaction? He glanced nervously around the library. It was practically empty, since most students opted to wait until the last few days of break to work on their homework. Still. He didn’t want to attract any unwelcome attention if he could avoid it.

“Hey!” Hermione said suddenly. “I’ve got an idea – why don’t we all go together? Like, as a group. That way you can be there together but it won’t look weird, and you won’t have to bring fake dates like the Yule Ball.”

“That’s a great idea, Hermione,” Cedric replied, shifting uneasily, “really, but… wouldn’t you be going with Krum? You know, as a date?”

Hermione’s face went blank.

“Well, right, yeah,” she muttered. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind going as a group, though. I mean, he shouldn’t, really. I’ll, uh, ask him about it. Next time I see him.”

Appearing to have lost any interest in conversation, Hermione buried her nose in her textbook. Harry met Cedric’s confused stare and shrugged. He could no more fathom Hermione’s behavior than the older boy. And rather than try, Harry opened his second roll of parchment to finish his essay.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


6:35 PM

December 28th

The Lake on the Hogwarts Grounds

Three days, five hours, and twenty-five minutes to the New Year.

  


Having finished all of his work for break, an after-dinner stroll over the grounds seemed like the perfect way to spend an evening, despite the chilly weather. So, Monday night, bundled up in heavy coats and their semi-matching sweaters, Harry and Cedric set out over Hogwarts’ sloping lawns. After passing the Whomping Willow, its branches shivering against the freezing cold, the boys came around the other side of the castle to the lake.

The entire surface was frozen solid, except for where the Durmstrang ship was parked on the other side. There was a thin layer of snow over the ice and, as they stepped onto the slippery surface, Cedric took a firm grasp of Harry’s hand.

“You’re holding my hand,” Harry observed.

“Well, you know, walking on ice,” Cedric said. “I don’t want you to slip and fall.”

“I’m touched by your concern,” Harry replied dryly. “Shouldn’t we be worried about someone seeing?”

“It’s pitch dark out here,” Cedric argued. “Who’s going to see?”

This didn’t do much to appease Harry’s nerves. Hermione’s comment in the library had him thinking more and more about how obvious he and Cedric were with their affections, their unguarded glances and overfriendly smiles. Moments like their kiss behind the snow bank on Christmas Day took on a whole new light when he thought of them as potential scenarios in which they could be caught. In spite of these concerns, an overwhelming part of Harry was refusing to let go of his boyfriend’s hand. And Cedric was right, it wasn’t likely that they would be spotted. It was too cold for most students to venture out onto the grounds so late, and definitely dark enough that they’d hear anyone approaching before they could be seen.

Reassured slightly, Harry returned Cedric’s grip. This proved to be a smart move as less than a minute later he crossed a rather slick span of ice. Harry’s right foot went flying and he began to plummet to the ground. With lightning-quick speed, Cedric reacted, grabbing Harry under each arm. He was too late to prevent Harry from falling entirely, but was able to make it a much softer landing for him. Laughing nervously, he settled onto the lake’s surface beside Harry.

“Maybe we should take a break from walking for a little while,” Cedric proposed.

“Good idea.”

Cedric stretched out flat on his back on the ice. Harry inched closer to him and lay so his body half-covered Cedric’s, Harry’s head positioned over Cedric’s heart. He could barely hear it through all the layers of clothing the older boy was wearing. Barely, but he did hear it, thumping away rapidly. Harry’s was going just as fast, mostly from the scare of his near fall. Harry knew, however, that it was also in large part because of his proximity to Cedric. He was amazed that his body still reacted so strongly to the Hufflepuff Hottie after all this time. Harry wondered if there would ever come a time when he didn’t feel that intensely about Cedric.

He hoped there wouldn’t.

“Harry?” Cedric murmured after a while.

“Hmm?”

“There’s something I think we should talk about,” he said.

Harry froze. (Which seemed appropriate, considering the only thing keeping him from literally freezing was Cedric’s body heat.) Tonight was the first time the two of them had been alone since the night of the Yule Ball, and what had come after. As a result, they had not yet discussed the dirty deeds they had committed. Harry’s hand found its way unconsciously to the Snitch around his neck and he let out a low, shaky breath.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cedric replied. “Look, I don’t want to worry you or anything, but –”

“Can I say something first?” Harry asked quickly.

“Of course,” Cedric said.

Then, screwing up his Gryffindor courage, Harry said, “I don’t think I’m ready. For us to be, you know, physical. It’s not that I don’t find you attractive, because, well, c’mon mate, look at you. And I know you find me attractive, and I appreciate that, a lot, actually. It’s not because I think I’m too young, either. I don’t. In fact, the reason I’m saying this is because I think I’m old enough to realize that rushing into sex, even when you are mature enough, can still ruin a relationship. I’m not saying I’ll never be ready, or even that it won’t be sooner rather than later. But for now I’m really content with where we’re at, and I’d like it to stay that way.”

A silence fell over the two of them. Nothing in Cedric’s body language gave Harry any indication what he was feeling.

“I mean, if that’s all right with you,” Harry added when the quiet got to be too much.

Cedric sighed, deeply.

“Harry,” he said finally, "what did I tell you on our first date?"

"That my eyes are festively ridiculous?"

"Yes, that, and what else?"

Harry shrugged.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully," Cedric said, "and really hear what I’m saying: I care about you, a lot. And I will never, **_ever_** try and pressure you into something you’re not ready for. Don’t get me wrong, Friday night was fantastic. Amazing. Wonderful. But I am willing to wait as long as it takes for a repeat performance.” Cedric pulled Harry closer to him. “I’m in this for more than your sexy body, no matter how sexy it is.”

“Good,” Harry chuckled. “I’m glad we cleared that up.”

“Me too,” Cedric agreed. “But, uhm… why did you bring it up?”

Harry blinked.

“I thought that was the thing you wanted to talk about.”

“Noo,” Cedric said. “I was going to say that Cho told me she sort of has a crush on Ron.”

“Oh,” Harry said, surprised. Then, more seriously, “Oh. Ohhh, crap.”

“Crap?”

“Well, maybe crap,” Harry replied. “I mean, there’s the whole Ron/Hermione issue.”

“Ah,” Cedric uttered.

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“But Hermione is with Krum,” Cedric pointed out.

“And as far as this school knows, you’re with Cho,” Harry countered.

“Hm,” Cedric grunted.

“Exactly.”

“This party is going to be interesting,” Cedric remarked.

“Undoubtedly,” Harry concurred.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


10:03 AM

December 29th

Entrance Hall

Two days, thirteen hours, fifty-seven minutes to the New Year.

  


“Hey, cutie,” Cho said blithely as she passed Harry on the marble staircase.

“Hi, Cho,” Harry replied, attempting to react coolly to her off-color greeting.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” she asked.

“Sure,” Harry answered.

The two moved to one side of the marble staircase, not ten steps from where, weeks earlier, Cho had rejected Harry’s invitation to go with him to the Yule Ball.

“Ricky told me that he told you what I told him,” Cho said quickly, which, given the sentence structure, could not have been easy. “You know, about how I sort of like Ron?”

Unsure how to respond to this, Harry simply nodded. Although he and Cedric hadn’t discussed the matter of Cho’s feelings for Ron any further the night before, Harry had decided on his own not to get involved if he could avoid it.

“Well, I was wondering,” she began nervously, “if you could maybe find out if he likes me back?”

“Oh. Cho. I dunno…” Harry frowned.

“Please?” she insisted, wringing her hands. “I mean, I just want to know if I might have a shot. Could you ask him? Today, maybe?”

It was strange to see Cho look so distressed. He’d come to know her as quite a vivacious, confident girl. Perhaps that was all a front. Having her last boyfriend turn out to be gay probably didn’t do much for her self-esteem. Harry wanted very badly to tell her no, sorry, he would not feel comfortable doing that. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, though.

“Sure,” Harry found himself saying. “I’ll try and ask him tonight.”

Cho beamed. Harry wondered how he’d let himself get in the middle of this.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


11:54 PM

December 29th

Gryffindor Boys’ Fourth Year Dormitory

Two days and six minutes to the New Year.

  


“Cho fancies you.”

Ron’s head popped up, surprised.

“Seriously?”

It had taken Harry all day to find the right moment to tell Ron. Whenever he and Ron were together, they were surrounded by other people; Neville, the twins, Hermione. He didn’t want to say something about Cho to Ron with any of them around – least of all Hermione. Then Ron decided to turn in while Neville, Dean and Seamus were all staying up. Knowing this meant they would have the dormitory to themselves, Harry jumped at his chance.

“Yeah, seriously,” Harry verified. “Sooo… do you think you might like her back?”

Ron shrugged.

“Anything more committal?”

“She’s all right,” Ron elaborated. “Pretty hot. I never thought about it, because, well…”

“I liked her,” Harry filled in.

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “Off limits.”

“But now?”

Ron shrugged again.

“Maybe.”

Harry sighed, knowing he would get nothing else out of Ron tonight. Rather than make another futile attempt, Harry rolled over and went to sleep.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


12:59 PM

December 30th

An empty First Floor classroom

One day, eleven hours, and one minute to the New Year.

  


“Cho, what are you doing?” Harry cried out as the girl dragged him into an empty classroom on the first floor.

“I wanted to know how your talk with Ron went,” she explained, shutting the door behind them. “So? How’d it go?”

Harry stared blankly for a minute. It hadn’t exactly ‘gone’ at all. Ron barely acknowledged Harry had said anything at all. Harry didn’t want to let Cho know that, however, because that would probably hurt her feelings.

Deciding that a little embellishment was better than hurting Cho, Harry answered, “Uh, it went good. Great.”

“Good or great?”

“Great,” Harry asserted. “Yeah. He, uh, he seemed – interested.”

“He did?” Cho said, smiling a bit.

“Yes,” Harry said. “He definitely seemed interested. So, do you think you might, like, ask him out or something?”

“Well, I’ll see him tomorrow night, right?” Cho replied. “I mean, Cedric said Hermione suggested we all go together. I’ll just talk to him then.”

A horrible wave of awareness washed over Harry.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, Hermione said that. We can all go together. And then we’ll all be there. All of us. Together.”

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


9:21 PM

December 30th

Gryffindor Common Room

One day, two hours, and thirty-nine minutes to the New Year.

  


As hard as it was to breach the subject of Cho liking Ron with Ron himself, it was even more difficult to say it to Hermione. Harry truly had no idea how she would respond. She was Hermione, so it was safe to assume that she wouldn’t make a scene. Even so, Harry was fairly certain that she would have some sort of reaction.

 _Best to err on the side of caution,_ he thought.

They were both reading by the fire that night when Harry figured he should say something before it was too late.

“Say, Hermione,” he said. “You know Cho…”

“Yeah, I think she’s great,” Hermione said. “She was loads of help getting ready for the ball.”

“Uh-huh, listen,” Harry began. “She sort of told me that she, er, likes Ron.”

Hermione’s large book slipped a fraction of an inch out of her hands. She snatched it with unnecessary force, crumpling a few pages.

“Oh,” she said plainly. “I see.”

“I’m sure it’s only a little crush,” Harry assured her. “Nothing to worry about, y’know?”

“No, that’s wonderful,” Hermione said. Her voice had gotten the tiniest bit higher. “I mean, well, maybe not **_wonderful_** , exactly, but good. It’s good. Really. Uhm, when did you, uh, find this out?”

“Just this week!” Harry answered quickly. “Cedric told me, and then she cornered me after lunch the other day to ask me to f—” Realizing too late the sentence he had started, Harry had no choice but to finish it: “To find out if he liked her, too.”

“Really?” Hermione inquired, voice raising another hair. “And what did he say?”

For a long minute Harry stared at the carpet in front of the fireplace. He wanted nothing more at the moment than to crawl under it and hide from this awkward conversation. (Actually, what he really wanted was to not be having the conversation, but it was too late now.)

“Uh, he, er, said… maybe,” Harry admitted dully.

“Oh,” Hermione squeaked.

“Hermione—”

“No, that’s great,” she insisted, though her voice had gotten quite high and her face was fixed in a rather exaggerated impersonation of delight. “Really. That’s great, that’s just **_so_** great. I have Viktor and Ron… Ron has Cho now, that is just… it’s great. Really great.” She slammed her book shut. “Wow. I am tired. I think I will go to bed now. …Great.”

Without another word Hermione got to her feet and rushed up the staircase to her dormitory. A horrible, ugly feeling had settled in Harry’s stomach. He wondered if he did he right thing by telling her and, even worse, if his, her, and Ron’s friendship would ever be the same again.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


7:43 PM

December 31st

The Room of Requirement

Four hours and seventeen minutes to the New Year.

  


“So now Hermione’s ignoring Ron,” Harry told Cedric, “and he has no idea why she’s doing it.”

The room tonight was dimly lit, and configured similarly to the way it was Christmas night, except without the decorations. There was still their couch and the fireplace and the window to watch the falling snow. No tree, though, and no stockings. That was fine by Harry. All he truly needed was the boy whose arms were wrapped around him on the couch, and that was something the room could never provide.

“That sucks,” Cedric murmured, mouth pressed to the side of Harry’s head.

“Plus, Ron’s still being strange,” Harry said. It came out more dismal than he intended it to. “It’s not a big deal, really. He probably just has his own stuff going on, or something. Seeing Hermione with Krum can’t exactly be fun for him.”

“That doesn’t make it okay for him to be weird with you though,” Cedric said. “Do you think, maybe, he’s being so strange….”

“Because of us?” Harry supplied “I did. And… I don’t know. He says he’s fine with it, which, maybe he is.” Harry sighed. “I want to believe him.”

“I do, too,” Cedric agreed. Then he said, “So. Hermione likes Ron.”

“Probably,” Harry said. “But she’s dating Krum.”

“Which is upsetting Ron, because he likes her.”

“Even though he’d never admit it,” Harry added.

“And now Cho likes Ron, and thinks Ron likes her,” Cedric said.

“Which he might,” Harry said. “But he’s definitely not over Hermione.”

“And all of these people are going to be at the party together,” Cedric finished.

There was a pregnant pause as the two boys took all this information in.

“Straight people have so much drama,” Harry concluded.

They shared a long laugh over that. Then Cedric sat up, pulling away from Harry. Harry groaned his disapproval of this action. He stood and stretched.

“Okay,” Cedric said. “I need to go change and get ready for this disaster.”

“Why do you need to change?” Harry wondered. “You look sexy enough to me already.”

Cedric gawked at him.

“Mr. Potter, such language!” he admonished. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use that word before.”

“What can I say,” Harry replied. “I’m just full of surprises.”

“That you are,” Cedric said. He bent forward to give Harry a goodbye kiss. “I’ll see you in the Great Hall.”

Harry nodded.

After Cedric left, he lay back on the couch by himself for a few minutes to collect his thoughts. He wasn’t sure what to expect from Fred and George’s party. Disaster definitely could be an applicable adjective. Harry just hoped it wouldn’t turn into a tragedy.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


9:18 PM

December 31st

The Great Hall

Two hours and forty-two minutes to the New Year.

  


Fashionably late seemed like the way to go for arriving at the party. There was a good crowd already in the Great Hall when Harry and Ron arrived, but the place wasn’t packed yet. Fred and George had a burly fifth year Gryffindor student taking people’s admission fee at the door. The twins themselves were weaving in and out of the multitude of partygoers, making their rounds, seeing to it that everyone was having a good time.

Harry scanned the hall for any sign of Cedric or Cho but couldn’t seem to find them. He saw Dean and Seamus over by the drink table. The Patil twins were being served punch by the Beauxbatons boys they’d hooked up with at the Yule Ball. Harry couldn’t help noticing a third year girl with long blond hair float pass by dreamily wearing a pair of orange radish earrings and a very large clock around her neck. But no sign of Cedric.

He even spotted Fleur Delacour, again escorted by Roger Davies. She was wearing a scandalously short skirt with an extremely tight top. More heads turned in her direction than ever before, Ron’s among them. Even Harry felt a bit of a pull in her direction. He wondered why she even bothered to dress provocatively when boys would lose their minds over her if she wore ratty sweats and a parka.

“And what are **_you_** looking at?” an angry voice demanded.

Harry spun around and found himself face to face with Cedric. The older boy had changed, as he said he would. Seeing what he was wearing, Harry was very glad Cedric didn’t listen when he said he was sexy enough already. He was now wearing a body-hugging, dark gray button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up below his elbows, and tight khakis with black dress shoes. Harry now felt severely underdressed in his far-too-small black T-shirt, his faded, tattered jeans with large, obvious holes on the left knee and right thigh, and his old, well-worn trainers.

“Nothing,” Harry lied. “Just scanning the crowd. Looking for you two.”

“Sure you were,” Cho permitted.

Harry blushed, ashamed. He looked at Cedric apologetically, but Cedric was giving him a genuine smile, which alleviated some of Harry’s shame. He let out a shaky breath, turning his attention to the other two. Cho was peeking nervously at Ron, who was giving the newcomers an obviously forced smile. Harry wanted smack him a little bit. Was it really so hard for him to make an effort?

“Cho, you look nice,” Harry said, with a pointed glance at Ron.

Apparently Ron wasn’t a complete moron, because he caught Harry’s look and mumbled, “Yeah, uh, your, er, your top is, uhm, it’s nice.”

“Thanks,” she replied shyly. “I like your T-shirt. It’s…bright.”

Ron was wearing a vividly orange Chudley Cannons shirt.

“Yeah,” Ron agreed.

Harry looked to Cedric, who was already staring back. They shared a smile over how uncomfortable Ron and Cho were being with each other.

“Hello, all,” a voice called gaily.

From out of the crowd stepped Hermione and Viktor.

 _Speaking of uncomfortable,_ Harry thought, taking a huge, gulping breath.

They stood there, in a circle, reminding Harry strongly of a similar situation from the Yule Ball, only this time with Ron in Parvati’s place, which made the whole thing all the more uncomfortable.

“How is everyone tonight?” Hermione asked in a fake, overly friendly voice that Harry had never heard her use before.

“What’s got you so cheerful?” Ron griped.

“I just think it’s a wonderful party,” Hermione answered, taking hold of Viktor’s arm.

“Glad you think so, Hermione,” George said, appearing on Harry’s left.

“We hope you’re all enjoying yourselves as much as the lovely Miss Granger is,” Fred added, popping up on Harry’s right.

“Yeah, you guys did a great job,” Cedric told them.

“Ah, Diggory, it’s what we do,” George informed him. “Bringing joy to the students of Hogwarts is our life’s calling.”

“Well, if anyone is suited for such a calling, it would be the two of you,” Harry said.

“Why, thank you, Harry,” Fred replied graciously. “Now, you can all probably figure out the drill. Food and drinks on the long table to the side. Smaller tables off the dance floor for those of you who don’t feel much like dancing. And at midnight, we drop the lights.”

“So everyone can get in a private little New Year’s snog,” George said, nudging Harry playfully with his elbow.

“Hey!” Fred cried out suddenly.

He was glaring a boy who had just bumped into him while passing their group. He was a younger student, couldn’t have been much older than twelve. He looked extremely nervous to be here. He also looked very out of place because, unlike the other students around him who were dressed casually, he was wearing his school clothes, even his tie. Green and silver – Slytherin colors.

“Oh, s-sorry,” he stammered. “I d-didn’t mean t-t-to –”

“Oy, you!” George thundered, moving to stand beside his brother. “How did **_you_** get in? We gave McLaggen very specific instructions to keep your lot out.”

The boy froze like a deer in headlights. Fred and George towered over him. The boy’s face turned bright red.

“Well? What do you think you’re doing here?” Fred demanded.

“Yeah, no future Death Eaters allowed,” George said.

Looking between them, the boy swallowed nervously. He opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, but couldn’t form words. He was shaking. A figure stepped between him and the twins. It was Cedric.

“C’mon, guys,” he pleaded. “He’s not doing anything wrong.”

“He’s a Slytherin,” George argued. “That’s good enough for me.”

“Yeah,” Cedric granted. “And I’m a Hufflepuff. Which I guess is why I don’t see any reason we all can’t get along.” The twins didn’t appear to be backing down, so he continued, “Look, if he makes any trouble, I’ll take care of it. But until then, why don’t we give him the benefit of the doubt, okay?”

Fred and George regarded Cedric for a minute. Harry held his breath nervously. He really did not want an altercation between them and his boyfriend to ensue, especially because he knew how underhanded the Weasley twins tended to get. They looked at each other for a second, then shrugged. Fred slapped Cedric lightly on the shoulder and leaned in to whisper something to him. Then the twins turned to the rest of the group.

“Well, I think we’ve spent enough time with you lot,” Fred told them.

“Yeah, we’ve got guests to attend to,” George said. “Enjoy the party.” He looked at the young Slytherin one more time and said, with hardly any malice, “Watch yourself, kid.”

The twins departed. Harry wondered if they were headed off to reprimand their bouncer for letting a Slytherin in. Cedric turned to the young boy, who appeared to be rooted to the spot where Fred and George accosted him.

“You okay?” Cedric asked, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. The boy nodded fervently, eyes wide as Galleons. “All right, go on then. Have a good time.” As the boy departed, he called, “And lose that tie! It’s a party!”

He turned back to the rest of the group.

“That was really sweet,” Harry said quietly.

“Well, I for one have had enough with this drama,” Cho informed them. “Er, Ron, do you want to have a dance?”

“Sure,” Ron answered unenthusiastically.

The two of them disappeared onto the dance floor. Hermione frowned as she watched them go, then pulled Viktor angrily onto the floor as well. This left Cedric and Harry, the only real couple among them, staring awkwardly at the floor.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


10:37 PM

December 31st

The Great Hall (again)

One hour and twenty-three minutes to the New Year.

  


“You are such a snob!”

“That is simply not true!”

“It is true!” Cedric accused. “And what’s worse is that you know it’s true and you’re denying it!”

Harry let out a frustrated sigh and slumped back in his seat. He and Cedric had been sitting at their table on a darkened corner of the Great Hall for about an hour, just talking, trying to remain inconspicuous. They were visited occasionally by friends but for the most part were left alone. While Harry preferred their usual night in, cuddling up in the Room of Requirement, it was nice being out. Sitting there together, on display like that, it almost felt like they were a real, open couple.

That is, until Harry insulted the song that was playing. Then Cedric started pouting about Harry’s allegedly pretentious taste in music.

“It’s just so…” Harry struggled to find the right word to describe the song, settling finally on, “ ** _Eighties_**.”

“Snob!” Cedric cried in outrage. “Just because a song has the sound of a certain era is no reason to discriminate against it!”

“Why not?”

“I – what?”

“Why is that no reason to discriminate against it?” Harry asked reasonably.

Cedric stared.

“I don’t even know how to answer that,” he said flatly. Cedric took a swig of butterbeer, then put the bottle back on the table with a heavy thump. “You’re completely unreasonable.”

“That is an exaggeration,” Harry debated.

“No, it isn’t,” Cedric shot back. “And if you don’t change your mind, I’m going to be forced to sing.”

“Oh, but that’s not unreasonable.”

“ _In you I’ve found a story I want to keep hearing,_ ” Cedric sang. “ _In you I see all colors, not just black or white._ ”

He started dancing a little in his chair, moving his shoulders and bopping his head. Harry rolled his eyes and took a quick look around to see if anyone was watching.

“ _In you I find a reason and hope for all dreamers,_ ” Cedric continued. “ _You are my fill, you’re my supply – of love and pride._ ”

“If I say I’ve changed my mind, will you stop?” Harry laughed.

“Never!” Cedric exclaimed.

“Why is Ric having a fit?”

Cho dropped into the empty chair next to Harry, and Ron into the one beside her. She was flushed from dancing, but seemed happy. Ron looked pretty disinterested.

“He thinks he’s dancing,” Harry told her.

“Hey!”

“Oh, right,” Cho said. “I should have recognized the symptoms.”

“Hey!” Cedric repeated. “If I’m such a horrible dancer then Harry would be too. I’m the one who taught him!”

“Merlin, Cedric, shout that a little louder, why don’t you,” Harry admonished, sinking a bit lower in his seat.

“Right,” Cedric replied, shamefaced. “Sorry.”

Cedric’s pained expression filled Harry with an immediate sense of remorse. Whatever reservations he had certainly weren’t Cedric’s fault, and it wasn’t right to take them out on him.

“It’s okay,” Harry told him. “Forget I said anything.”

He tapped Cedric’s foot with his own under the table. Cedric’s frown turned up a fraction. Harry smiled. He was about to ask Ron and Cho how their night was going when Hermione and Krum approached their table.

“Heyyy,” she said affably. “How’s everybody doing?”

Everybody gave a noncommittal grumble in response. Ron jumped out of his seat to offer it to Hermione, which she took without thanks. Krum frowned at Ron.

“That’s good,” Hermione said. She turned to the Ravenclaw girl beside her. “Cho, I love your shirt. Personally, I wouldn’t have the guts to go sleeveless with arms like that, but I admire your courage.”

Cho blinked.

“Thank you, Hermione,” she replied, recovering nicely. “You did a really admirable job with your makeup. I mean, that eye shadow completely clashes with what you’re wearing, but seeing as you barely used any I guess you’re safe. It’s really just good to see you finally making any effort.”

“Well, some people believe less is more,” Hermione countered. “Caking on as much as you can doesn’t work for everyone.”

“I think your makeup looks fine,” Ron muttered, eyes glued to the table.

The passive-aggressively bickering girls turned around to glare at him.

“What did you say?” Hermione asked irritably.

“Which one of us were you talking to?” Cho demanded, making the question sound like a threat.

Ron looked at the two of them. He seemed stunned that they even heard him over their less-than-subtle barbs at each other. He gaped wordlessly at them like a fish gulping for water.

“I need a drink,” he said at last.

He disappeared so quickly that Harry thought he might’ve Disapparated away. Cho and Hermione glanced at each other, then looked away quickly. They both seemed all of a sudden uncomfortable.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” Cho said, rising from her seat.

“Excuse me,” Hermione said, also standing and wandering off in the opposite direction. Krum followed obediently.

Harry and Cedric stared at each other across the vacated table.

“And we thought we had problems,” Harry said.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


11:56 PM

December 31st

The Great Hall (still)

Four minutes to the New Year.

  


Students began gearing up for midnight at half-past eleven. As the hour drew closer, the energy among the revelers intensified, growing more frenzied by the minute.

“Almost midnight,” Cedric observed. “We should probably, I don’t know, get ourselves ready for it, or something.”

“Yeah,” Harry concurred. “Yeah, I know. I’m just – waiting.”

Cedric nodded.

Neither Harry nor Cedric had brought up the awkward moment with their friends since it happened. Even so, Harry knew it was weighing heavily on both of them. They talked and joked and laughed but Harry saw the way Cedric kept scanning the crowd. Probably looking for Cho the same way Harry was looking for Ron and Hermione.

“We haven’t seen any of them for an hour,” Cedric said, breaking their unspoken agreement of silence. “I don’t think it’s likely that we will again tonight. Not at this point.”

As if to purposely contradict Cedric’s statement, Viktor Krum ambled up to their table. He looked more disgruntled than usual.

“Haff you seen Herm-own-ninny?” he asked them.

“Last time we saw her was the last time we saw you,” Harry answered honestly. “You lost track of her?”

“I lost her in the crowd,” Krum replied hotly, clearly annoyed by the accusation. He eyed them suspiciously. “I thought you vere vith that Cho girl,” he said to Cedric. “Vy vas she vith the Weasley?”

Cedric swallowed uncomfortably.

“Well, Cho and I are friends,” he replied. “We were just went to the ball as friends.”

Krum looked at them both again, then nodded curtly and stormed off. Harry watched him go, his stomach tying up in knots. The Bulgarian’s peculiar interrogation probably had more to do with his own drama than with Harry and Cedric. Probably. And if not, well… Harry added that possibility to the Not Thinking About It list.

“That was weird,” Cedric said, making the whole ignoring-it thing a little harder for Harry.

“I wonder what happened to Hermione,” Harry said.

Cedric only shrugged in response, but at least the segue got him to drop the subject of Viktor’s behavior. He lifted his Butterbeer bottle, then, seeming to remember that he’d drained it twenty minutes ago, put it back down. Cedric looked around.

“Only a few minutes left,” he noted. “Do you think that Fred and George are really turning out the lights at midnight?”

“Lying about that is the kind of thing they would do,” Harry mused. “But they seemed genuine.”

Harry gulped down the last of his own Butterbeer and dropped the bottle back down on the table. The warm liquid washed away his lingering doubts, leaving wild and lascivious thoughts in their wake.

“Still,” he said, “we, uh, might want to find a private corner. Just in case.”

Cedric grinned.

“Really?” he said. “You wanna –” He lowered his voice. “You wanna kiss at midnight? **_Here_**?”

“It’s a little risky,” Harry admitted.

“Usually I’m the risk taker,” Cedric pointed out.

“Hey, which one of us initiated the first kiss?” Harry responded.

“True.”

“And outside a tent full of people, I might add,” Harry went on. “Besides: I’m full of surprises, remember? And frankly, you look too good not to risk it.”

“ ** _I_** look good?” Cedric scoffed. “What about you, with your tight shirt and your suggestively torn jeans? I’ve been checking out what’s through those holes all night. Were you **_trying_** to turn me on, Potter?”

Harry blushed. Leave it to Cedric to see his raggedy, hand-me-down clothes and think they were sexy. He shrugged, playing it off coolly. Cedric looked around, confirming that no one was watching.

“Let’s go,” he said.

He rose out of his seat, and Harry followed. They made their way through the pack of partygoers, Cedric leading the way to a secluded back corner. It was stupid and impulsive and risky but Harry couldn’t help himself. There was no way he could not kiss Cedric into the New Year. Besides, no one seemed to notice the two Hogwarts champions going off together. When they reached the corner, Cedric pulled Harry into his arms. Harry’s hand roamed over Cedric’s body, loving the tight fit of his nice clothes.

“I’ve wanted to get my hands on you all night,” he murmured.

“Ditto,” Cedric replied, pulling Harry close by his waist.

“Ten!” the crowd began chanting. “Nine! Eight!”

“You ready?” Cedric asked.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

“As I’ll ever be,” Harry responded, heart beating out of his chest.

“Four! Three!”

“Here we go,” Cedric whispered.

“Two! One!”

  


12:00 AM

January 1st

The New Year.

  


As the lights fell, Harry and Cedric dove for each other simultaneously. The crowd cheered in the New Year, but all Harry could hear was the labored breathing of his boyfriend, all he could smell was Cedric’s cologne. All he could feel was Cedric’s hands, his lips.

“Happy New Year!” the people screamed.

 _If I can start every year like this,_ Harry thought to himself, _I’ll be happy for the rest of my days._

  



	19. He Wanted to Say

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

“He Wanted to Say”

  


Unfortunately, for Harry and the rest of the Hogwarts student body, holiday break couldn’t last forever. The last few days following New Year’s were gone in the blink of an eye and, before they knew it, classes had resumed. And if that weren’t bad enough, there was also the fallout of Rita Skeeter’s article declaring that Hagrid was a half-giant. (This, incidentally, was what Ron had been trying to tell Harry after the Yule Ball.)

By the time that situation had resolved itself, and Hagrid was ready to come out of hiding, it was already two weeks into the term. February was fast approaching, and with it the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. With everything that had been happening over the past month, Harry completely forgot about his duties as a Hogwarts champion.

Truth be told, he had no idea what he was doing with the egg. Harry worked determinedly on it for several days after telling Hagrid he was doing great with it. No matter what he did, though, Harry couldn’t figure the damn thing out.

“You could always ask Cedric for advice,” Hermione suggested lightly one night at dinner.

“But Hermione,” Ron replied with an ironic grin, “wouldn’t that be cheating?”

“I’m not saying Harry should copy him or anything,” Hermione elaborated. “However, if Harry really doesn’t understand it, there’s no shame in getting a tip or two.” She turned her attention back to Harry. “After all, you told him about the dragons in the first task.”

“That was different!” Harry argued. “I told him because everyone knew about the dragons except him.” Then, sheepishly, he added, “All right, and maybe because I liked him. But still! I dunno, this feels different. It’s like I’m… taking advantage of our relationship or something. Is that weird?”

“Of course not,” Hermione assured him. “If anything, I’m glad you don’t want to ask Cedric simply because you can. That being said, are you out of your fucking mind?”

Ron’s silverware clattered to the floor as he dropped it out of shock.

“Merlin’s beard, Hermione!” he cried.

“Yeah, really,” Harry agreed.

“Well, you need to come to your senses,” Hermione said. “Harry, the task is almost a month away at this point. And in case you’ve forgotten, there’s that whole thing where we think someone is using the Tournament to try and kill you.”

“I do so often forget when someone’s trying to kill me,” Harry quipped, skewering a piece of carrot.

“Don’t be glib,” Hermione warned, “you know I’m right. I’m proud of you for wanting to stay honest. But really, just ask him.”

“I’ll think about it,” Harry relented. “I want to try and do it on my own. But I’ll think about it.”

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


Over the next few days, Harry thought about Hermione’s proposal, as he’d promised. Every time he met a dead end with the egg, the idea of asking Cedric about it looked more appealing. When he had tried by himself for a week, and grown so sick of the egg’s wailing that he wanted to puncture his eardrums with his own wand, Harry caved at last.

As usual, they met in the Room of Requirement. That night, however, was their two month anniversary and, although they had agreed not to make a big deal out of it, Harry wanted to do something special for his boyfriend. He’d noticed recently the way Cedric looked forlornly over the snowy slopes of Hogwarts, clearly pining for greener scenery. Not wanting him to have to wait months on end for the change of season, Harry decided to put the Room’s limits to the test.

As he paced in front of the blank wall that hid their secret spot, Harry envisioned a perfect midsummer evening, warm but not uncomfortably so, and an expanse of lush, green grass. He didn’t think too much on specifics, knowing the Room of Requirement was good at filling in the blanks. Once the three passes were complete, Harry pushed open the newly-appeared door and stepped into a room unlike any he’d ever seen before.

The room was dark, lit softly by a glow from above. In the glow Harry could see the room had become circular, and larger than he had ever seen it before. It was easily as big as the entrance hall. The hard stone floor was replaced with rich, springy grass. The wall was only about as tall as the door, and where it ended the ceiling became a high-arcing dome. Like the ceiling in the Great Hall, it was enchanted to reflect the night sky outside the castle. The glow lighting the room was coming from the hundreds of stars up above. It was all so realistic that Harry could’ve sworn he’d stepped through that door into a field in the middle of June.

Minutes later, when Cedric entered the Room, the first thing he did (after being bowled over by Harry’s wonderful surprise and kissing him in thanks) was to take off his shoes and socks so that he could feel the dewy grass with his bare feet. Seeing no reason why not to, Harry followed suit. It felt strange but pleasant.

Cedric was overjoyed with the small oasis Harry had conjured. He wowed Harry by demonstrating a forward flip, then tried teaching Harry how to do it too. It wasn’t easy, but the part where Cedric held onto Harry’s waist to steady him was quite enjoyable.

Once Harry was able to do a mediocre flip without assistance, they decided to take a break. Sprawled out on their backs under the simulated night sky, Cedric sighed.

“I’m going to take you camping someday,” he promised. “The Muggle way. With a little tent and a campfire.”

“And one sleeping bag for the two of us to share?” Harry mused.

“Ooh, I like the sound of that,” Cedric chuckled.

“I had a feeling you might,” Harry said. Then a thought occurred to him: “Do you think about that a lot?”

“You and me in a sleeping bag?” Cedric asked cheekily. “Wellll, not all the time, but often enough.”

“Ha ha,” Harry said sarcastically. “I meant, you know, things like the camping. The future. Do you think about stuff like that?”

Cedric sighed deeply.

“Sometimes,” he answered. “I think about what things will be like, after the tournament, and we don’t really have to hide anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the only reason we’re working so hard to keep us a secret is because of the tournament, right?” Cedric said. “Because it’s bad enough that there’s two Hogwarts champions, things would be even worse if people found out we were together. But once the tournament’s over, it won’t matter who finds out.”

“Hmm,” was Harry’s response.

In his head, Harry wasn’t so silent. His mind was racing over what Cedric had said. He, Harry, had never given much thought to coming out on such a grand scale. He was still getting used to just the idea of being gay. Harry didn’t know if he was ready for that, to be so open, to have the whole student body of Hogwarts know about him, and about him and Cedric.

He didn’t know if he’d ever be ready for that.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, gazing up at the starry sky as a warm summer breeze passed over them. After a while, Harry remembered what he wanted to ask Cedric, about the Triwizard clue. He still didn’t feel completely comfortable doing it, and considered not saying anything at all. Then he thought about how rapidly the second task was coming up. There really was no justifying **_not_** asking.

“Soo,” Harry began nonchalantly, “have you been able to crack your egg yet?”

“Funny,” Cedric commented. “Actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that. I received a bit of advice about the egg, and I wanted to share it with you, but I didn’t know if you would think it was, like, cheating, for us to work on it together.”

Harry was quiet for a moment, contemplating. He was surprised by this new piece of information, that someone had given Cedric a tip on the egg.

“I see what you mean,” Harry said. “I’ve given that a lot of thought myself, because I’ve sort of been dying to ask you for help all night –”

“Hah.”

“—and I haven’t been able to come up with a good answer,” Harry continued. “But if we’re working off of information someone else gave you, it’s already sort of cheating.”

“Good point,” Cedric replied.

“Where did this advice come from, anyway?” Harry asked.

“You’re not going to believe this,” Cedric told him, before announcing the informant’s name: “Professor Moody.”

“Mad-Eye!?” Harry marveled. “Are you serious?”

“Yup,” Cedric confirmed. “It was so weird. About a week ago he had me stay after class to ask how I was doing with the clue. I told him I hadn’t been able to make much of it. So, get this, he tells me: take a bath.”

“Wha-?”

“Yeah! He tells me to take a bath, take the egg, and to mull things over in the hot water. …How weird is that!?!”

“Maybe he’s coming on to you,” Harry kidded with a laugh.

“Eugh!” Cedric groaned. “Not funny!” He shuddered comically. “So, what do you think?”

“I told you,” Harry said, “Moody was probably coming on—”

“Not about that!” Cedric shouted. “We are done talking about that, **_forever_**. I meant about the bath thing.”

“Well, I don’t really know what he means,” Harry replied. “But you might as well try it. Anything is worth trying at this point, right?”

“Oh so very true,” Cedric said. He cleared his throat, and asked, “Do you want to try it with me?”

“What, like,” Harry blushed, “take a bath with you?”

“I guess you could put it that way, yeah,” Cedric answered. “We could use the prefects’ bathroom again. What do you say?”

Harry didn’t know what to say. Since their frolic on Christmas night, the most sexual their encounters had gotten were a few quick gropes. But that was a month ago. Harry knew that there could quite possibly be no sexual connotation to the invitation, and that Cedric could merely be offering to let him help figure out the egg. Still, Harry couldn’t keep his mind from wandering and wondering what might happen if they took that plunge into the bath together. He gulped, and felt his pants tighten uncomfortably. He didn’t know what the right answer to Cedric’s proposition was, but he knew what he wanted to say.

“Sure.”

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


They decided to wait until Tuesday night to work on the clue. Neither of them had class first thing Wednesday morning, so they could stay as long as they needed without having to worry about being up early.

Cedric met Harry at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. They hadn’t done this in a long while. Not since they first started dating, when Cedric would escort him to the prefects’ bathroom so that, in case they got caught, they wouldn’t get in trouble, given Cedric’s prefect status. At first Harry couldn’t see the necessity of it; after all, he’d made it to the Great Hall on his own the night of their first date. Then one night they ran into Professor Flitwick as they were heading back, and it didn’t feel so pointless. After that, whenever they went out after curfew, Harry let Cedric escort him from and back to his dormitory.

Things were slightly tense when they arrived at the bathroom. Harry felt almost as much trepidation upon entering as he did on their first date. While Cedric filled the bath, Harry stood by watching uneasily. He didn’t know what he should do. Should he get ready while Cedric worked? Should he wait? And how far should he undress, anyway? He hadn’t brought swim trunks because, frankly, he didn’t own any. So would he simply remove his shirt, or undress down to his boxers, or even undress completely? Harry was paralyzed with indecision.

The squeak of the final tap turning off brought Harry out of his reverie. Cedric stood and smiled at him, bashfully.

“So,” Cedric said.

“So.”

The boys smiled at each other nervously, neither sure what to do next. Then, suddenly, the knob on the bathroom door began to turn. Their heads whipped toward the entrance. Fortunately, Cedric had bolted it, so the door didn’t budge, though not for the attempted intruder’s lack of trying. He jiggled the knob and banged on the door several times. Harry looked at Cedric, who was biting his lip tensely.

“What should we do?” he whispered.

Frowning, Cedric approached the door, and Harry followed. Cedric motioned for Harry to stand behind the door, then took a breath, undid the bolt, and opened it a crack.

“Oh,” a surprised voice said. “Diggory. It’s you.”

“Yeah,” Cedric replied pleasantly. “Hey. What’s up?”

“’What’s up?’” the boy repeated. “What’s up with you locking the door? What’re you doing in there at this late hour?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Cedric shot back. “Come for a private wank?”

“Maybe,” the other boy replied indignantly. “What business is it of yours?”

“None,” Cedric answered. “But you’re out of luck tonight, I’m using the room. Official Triwizard Tournament business.”

“Ah, trying to stick it to Potter, eh?” the boy asked.

“Oh yeah,” Cedric replied, with a grin, “every chance I get.”

“Well, good luck, mate,” the boy said.

“Thanks, man.”

And with that Cedric shut and relocked the door. He turned to his boyfriend, who was smirking at him.

“So you’re gonna stick it to me, huh?” Harry asked.

“Maybe,” Cedric replied, “if you’re lucky.”

He dipped his head for a kiss, which Harry eagerly returned. He then tried for another, but Harry pushed him away lightly.

“If we start on that, we’ll never get to the egg,” Harry informed him.

“Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right,” Cedric said. “So, shall we just dive in then?”

Without waiting for an answer, Cedric began unbuttoning his shirt. Harry stared, transfixed, as his fingers worked to undo the buttons. They stopped when he reached his navel.

“Are you just going to watch me?” he asked.

Harry’s face grew hot.

“Sorry,” he said, looking away.

“No, it’s okay,” Cedric told him. “You can if you want. It’s kind of kinky, but all right.”

Harry swallowed the lump Cedric’s words had put in his throat. Unable to do anything else, Harry watched as Cedric cast off his unbuttoned shirt, revealing his well-sculpted torso beneath it. Having not seen it in a month, Harry found Cedric’s chest more beautiful than ever. Cedric stepped out of his shoes and pulled off his socks. His smile had become more of a sexy grin, Harry noticed. He rolled his eyes, knowing his boyfriend was getting as much satisfaction out of performing this impromptu strip tease as Harry was watching it. Cedric undid his belt buckle and unzipped, letting his pants fall slowly to the floor. He stood there, in only his plaid blue and green boxers, grin a little less smug now that he was nearly nude.

“You put on a good show,” Harry laughed.

“Don’t get too cocky,” Cedric chided. “It’s your turn now.”

“I guess it is,” Harry conceded.

He pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it into the pile Cedric had left his clothes in. Then Harry kicked off his sneakers and yanked off his socks. He was going a lot quicker than Cedric did. Since he wasn’t wearing a belt, Harry merely undid his pants and shimmied out of them. That left him in his dark blue boxers patterned with tiny white polka dots. He was painfully aware of how obvious his bulge must’ve been pressing against the front of them. He couldn’t tell if Cedric had noticed it. He probably did, considering the way his eyes were glued to Harry’s body.

“We should probably get started,” Harry said.

Not because he felt uncomfortable with the way Cedric was staring at him. Quite the opposite, he liked the way Cedric was staring at him. He just wasn’t sure what to do with that.

“Yeah,” Cedric said, pulling his eyes away at last. “Right. Okay. Let’s get started.”

He took the golden egg he’d brought and placed it by the edge of the tub. Then he scampered around to the tub’s perimeter to the diving board at the one end. He stepped onto it carefully and looked over at Harry.

“Hey, watch this!”

Cedric turned around, bounced on the board a few times, and then leapt into the air. His body curled into a flip and splashed into the soapy water. Harry was flabbergasted. Cedric resurfaced to Harry’s enthusiastic applause.

“Thank you, thank you,” Cedric said, waving modestly to the invisible crowd. “Come on in, it feels great.”

Harry moved across the bathroom to the diving board. He wasn’t about to try anything as bold as Cedric’s flip, but he was able to do an admirable cannonball. He crashed through the layers of bubbles into the water. Cedric was right, it did feel great. The tub wasn’t too deep, so his complete lack of swimming skill wasn’t much of a factor. He treaded water over to where Cedric was, in the shallower end.

“You have bubbles in your hair,” Cedric informed him, reaching up to wipe them away.

“Yeah, so do you,” Harry responded, mirroring his boyfriend’s actions.

Cedric’s hand moved from Harry’s head to his shoulder, and then gently down his arm. The sensation made Harry all the more aware of how close they were standing, and how little they were wearing. He wanted to lean into the touch, a feeling that both shocked and invigorated him. Instead he pulled back and reached over to the edge of the tub to pick up the egg.

“So, we’re in the bath,” Harry said, “and we have the egg. Now what?”

“I don’t know,” Cedric admitted. “It’s sort of rubbish advice, isn’t it? ‘Take a bath?’”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed.

Without thinking, he pried open the egg. The usual horrible screeching came out, but this time it was magnified by the echoes off the marble walls and floors. Startled by the sudden volume, Harry dropped the egg into the water. He could still hear it, only it was… different. It sounded less like wailing under the water, almost like…

“Music,” Cedric mumbled.

In unison, the boys bother took a deep breath and dove under the surface.

” _Come seek us where our voices sound,_ ” the egg sang, “ _We cannot sing above the ground…_ ”

It went on for a few more lines. They took turns going under to listen to it after the first time. It was difficult for Harry to focus on listening to the song while his face was level with Cedric’s midsection, but after listening four times he got the basic gist down. Something that couldn’t sing above the ground would be taking something they’d “sorely miss” and that they’d have an hour to search for it or it would be gone forever.

“‘We cannot sing above the ground,’” Cedric quoted. “RRGH! Okay. Let’s think. Cannot sing above the ground – ”

“ – because when they do they sound like nails on a chalkboard,” Harry filled in. “So the only way for them to sound coherent is if they’re underwater.”

“Which means that where their voices sound is underwater,” Cedric elaborated. “So, underwater. It has to be some sort of water creature. Gee, that narrows it down.”

“Well, clearly we have to look for whatever they took underwater,” Harry said. “And it has to be on the Hogwarts grounds, so that must mean the lake.” He pondered this. “What lives in the lake?”

“The squid,” Cedric opined. “But that doesn’t talk. The usual water creatures, grindylows, merpeople –” His eyes grew wide. “OH! That’s it!” Cedric ran a hand through his hair, pulling the wet locks out of his face. “I’m such an idiot, we were just reviewing water creatures in Defense a few weeks ago. It’s merpeople, Harry! They can speak fine under the water, but above –”

“They sound like our eggs?”

“Exactly!” Cedric crowed triumphantly. “All we have to do is go into the lake and get back whatever the merpeople are holding! Not nearly as terrifying as facing a dragon, and we still have weeks to prepare.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, sounding a lot less confident. “That’s great, except how are we supposed to breathe underwater? I’m assuming merpeople don’t populate the shallower parts of the lake.”

Cedric’s high spirits sagged a bit at this.

“Huh,” was his response. “Yeah, that’s a good point. I can probably do a Bubble-Head Charm, but it would look highly suspicious if we both used it. Especially because you’re not technically supposed to learn it until your fifth year.”

“Thanks, that helps,” Harry griped.

His nervousness must have been coming through loud and clear, because Cedric immediately abandoned his exuberance. He took Harry’s waist and pulled him into a reassuring embrace.

“Harry, relax,” he said. “You faced a dragon with only three days’ preparation. Plus, you know, everything else you’ve been doing since you came to Hogwarts. You took on dozens of dementors all on your own last year. A dip in the lake will be no sweat for you.”

Harry smiled a little at Cedric’s confidence in him. He let out a breath and rested his forehead on the older boy’s shoulder. As his anxieties about the impending task began to melt away, he slowly realized that he was in the same predicament he’d been trying to avoid earlier. He also noticed a certain part of Cedric’s anatomy was rather responsive to their current position.

“Is that a wand in your boxers or are you just happy to see me?” Harry asked.

“Sorry,” Cedric groaned. “Can’t help it. It’s what you do to me.” He started to pull away, saying, “We can get out, if you want.”

“No, wait,” Harry replied, holding Cedric in place. He stepped closer to him. “It’s okay.”

Cedric gazed at Harry intently.

“Are you sure?”

Rather than answer, Harry leaned up to kiss him. Cedric returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around Harry tightly. Harry moved in even closer, so that every part of them, chests, legs, everything, was touching. Like at Christmas, it didn’t take long for passion to take hold. Before long, what little clothing separated them was disposed of. Hands explored even newer territory, until they found something worth holding onto. This was well beyond what they’d done after the Yule Ball, only this time it was completely deliberate. And Harry had no intention of stopping.

But they were young, after all, and it was over almost as quickly as it began. Coming down from their high, Harry and Cedric kissed and pressed their wet foreheads together. They were attacked by a fit of light laughter, both giddy over what they’d just accomplished.

“That was,” Cedric sighed, “pretty fantastic.”

“Yeah, it was,” Harry agreed enthusiastically. “And I didn’t even finish first this time! Hooray.”

“What can I say?” Cedric asked. “You’re hot.” He giggled and said, timidly, “You know, I think I might be falling in love with you.”

In that moment, time seemed to stop.

Harry froze. He’d heard what Cedric said, as loudly as if it’d been shouted in Harry’s ear, and he wanted to say something, to respond somehow, but he couldn’t. The words panicked Harry to his core, making his throat close up and his chest feel tight. They lit a fuse inside him that, instead of exploding like a Filibuster Firework in his heart, felt more like a Dungbomb detonating in the pit of his stomach.

More than anything, Harry wanted to say it back. He wanted to tell Cedric that he’d never felt this way about anyone before. He wanted to open up and show Cedric everything he was, everything he’d been holding back until that point. But something was stopping him, some mental or emotional block. The same block that kept him from telling Cedric about Sirius.

He wanted to say that he was falling in love with Cedric, too. He wanted to.

But he couldn’t.

Instead, he said, “I’m not **_that_** good.”

The minute the words escaped his mouth, Harry wished he’d said something else. If his uninspired response had hurt Cedric, it didn’t show. The other boy looked confused for a second, like it was taking longer to process words after what they did. Then he grinned, and kissed Harry’s forehead, right on the scar.

“We should probably get out and head off to bed,” Cedric said.

“Yeah,” Harry replied.

They hoisted themselves out of the water. Cedric got them both towels while Harry stood, cold and naked and shivering. He wrapped a towel around Harry, then another around himself. They dried off and got dressed, but Harry was just going through the motions. In his mind he was back in the water that was now draining from the tub, trapped in that moment, trying to figure out what it meant.

Even as Cedric was dropping him off in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry was still in a fog. He put up a good front, kissing Cedric goodnight and thanking him again for the help with the clue. But in his head he was miles away.

That frozen moment meant something. And Harry had a pretty good idea of what it was. He hoped he was wrong, though, because if he wasn’t he had a very difficult decision to make.

And soon.

  



	20. Casualty of Love

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER TWENTY**

“Casualty of Love”

  


For days after their intimate encounter in the prefects’ bathroom, Harry was left reeling. He could hardly think of anything else.

Half the time he was fixated on what went on below the water. His mind had a nasty habit of conjuring up the image of Cedric’s face when he came whenever Harry was supposed to be focusing on something else, something important, which usually meant during Potions class. That in turn usually meant getting snarled at by Snape while attempting to hide his erection.

The rest of the time he agonized over what came after, no pun intended. The words Cedric had spoken. The words Harry had been unable to say back. Harry lay awake every night plagued by the memory of his emotional paralysis.

Why didn’t he tell Cedric that he loved him? Or, rather, why **_couldn’t_** he? Because it wasn’t only a matter of not saying it at the time. He still was unable to force the words out, even now. He cared about Cedric, deeply. He was certain of that. And Cedric made him happy. Very much so. But there was something, some nagging hesitance, some doubt that made Harry hold back from using that four-letter word.

Following their work with the golden egg Harry tried twice as hard to avoid Cedric as he once had to catch a mere glimpse of the older boy. When they would cross paths in the halls Harry would apologize for not being available, making up excuses about homework and researching for the second task. It was a half truth that was mostly a lie. And of course Cedric was unbearably understanding, assuring Harry that they would have all the time in the world once the tournament was over. Harry said nothing to this, dashing off before the conversation could go on any longer. Before Harry could say something he might regret.

Hermione noticed Harry’s strange behavior, and the drastic reduction of time he spent with his boyfriend, as Hermione was prone to do. When she asked Harry about it he brushed her off, told her it was fine. She knew nothing of what happened between the two champions in the prefects’ bathroom that wasn’t to do with the egg, under the water or otherwise. Harry felt a little uncomfortable talking to her about his sex life. She’d never done anything to make him feel that way, Hermione was always very understanding, but she was still Hermione, and a girl, and it was weird. It was awkward enough on Boxing Day when he and Cedric had barely even done anything. And if he couldn’t tell her the sex part of his story, it was hard to explain the rest, so he never bothered.

And, to Harry’s dismay, other than Hermione he didn’t really have anyone else to turn to. He certainly couldn’t talk to Ron. Harry’s best friend made it clear on several occasions that when it came to his boyfriend he wasn’t interested. Much like Hermione, Ron never did anything to specifically make Harry uncomfortable, but there was something about the way Ron became distant whenever Cedric was made the subject of conversation that led Harry to think Ron simply wasn’t interested.

The only other person Harry would usually turn to for advice or comfort was Sirius. Except Harry still hadn’t told Sirius about Cedric. He hadn’t even told Sirius he was gay yet. There was a block, like the one Harry had with Cedric, which prevented Harry from telling his godfather the truth. Sirius was the closest thing Harry had to a parent. If Harry came out to him, and Sirius didn’t… No. Harry couldn’t think about that.

There were a lot of things Harry couldn’t think about.

So instead he continued to act like nothing was wrong, telling the people he cared the most about that everything was fine, when in reality he couldn’t remember feeling more confused. Lies on top of lies, piling on each other until Harry could hardly breathe. Harry was sick of it all. The lying needed to end.

He needed to talk to Cedric.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


After finally settling on a place for them to meet that wasn’t too personal, Harry sent Cedric a note. It read:

  


_Meet me behind the greenhouses at 8._

  


And nothing else.

The ink it was written in was black.

Harry didn’t eat anything at dinner that night. Even if he could unclench his jaw to shovel food in, and make his throat work to swallow, Harry knew his stomach wouldn’t be able to process it. Hermione frowned at him, but didn’t comment. Instead she asked if he was seeing Cedric soon. When Harry nodded slowly in response, she gave a surprised but favorable “oh!” and said nothing else.

A little before eight o’clock, Harry made his way across the grounds, snow crunching underfoot with every step. The area behind the greenhouses was empty when he arrived. Harry had gotten there first. He stood, huddled in the shadows, waiting. The freezing air of the early February night made his teeth chatter. Or maybe it was nerves.

What couldn’t realistically have been more than a few minutes later, no matter how long they felt, Harry heard someone approaching in the darkness.

“Hey,” Cedric greeting him, smiling cheerfully.

“Hi,” Harry replied curtly.

Cedric leaned in and kissed Harry on the forehead. He was wearing the sweater Harry’d given him for Christmas. Harry’s jaw tightened upon seeing this.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,” Cedric said. “I missed you.”

“Yeah.”

Harry knew his responses were short, even bordering on rude, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. And on top of that, he felt sick to his stomach over what he was here to do. If he wasn’t careful, he might end up spilling his guts, verbally **_and_** physically.

“What are we doing out here, anyway?” Cedric asked. “It’s freezing.”

“I jus-…”

Harry shrugged. He couldn’t come up with a good excuse for why he didn’t want them to meet in any of their usual places. Because the real reason was that it would’ve made what he had to do too hard.

“Fancy a walk?”

Harry shook his head.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“Okay,” Cedric replied. “I guess you’ve been working hard on the second task, huh? Find anything yet?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied absently. Then, “Uh, I mean no, not yet.” He took a deep, shivering breath.

“Hey, don’t worry so much,” Cedric said, taking Harry by the shoulders. Harry’s mind flashed on the night they were both chosen as champions, on how Cedric believed him when he said he didn’t enter his name. “I’m sure you’ll find som-”

Harry shrugged Cedric’s hands off. Why did he have to make this so hard for Harry?

“It’s not about the task.”

“Oh.” Cedric frowned, and bit his lip for a moment. “Well then, what’s the matter?”

“I…”

Rubbing a hand over his face, Harry sighed in frustration. He didn’t know what to say, where to begin. He’d thought about it for hours, for days, even come up with a few good things to say, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember any of it at the moment. He said the first thing that came to him, the most honest answer he could think of.

“This isn’t going to work.”

“What isn’t?” Cedric asked slowly.

Faintly, finally, in a whisper barely audible over the wintery wind, Harry replied, “…us.”

Cedric stared.

“Wha-” He chewed his lip again, more fiercely this time, before continuing, “I don’t understand, what are you sa-”

“I,” Harry swallowed, “ ** _we_** …. We need to break up.”

Cedric took half a step backwards. He blinked several times, and ran an ungloved hand through his hair. Harry wondered briefly if his hands were cold.

“Is this – are you joking?”

“Of course not,” Harry responded. “What kind of joke would that be?”

“I don’t know!” Cedric said angrily. “But it’s better than the alternative, which is that you’re actually – ” He stopped, and calmed a fraction. “I just, I don’t understand. What happened, what made you – was it something I did?”

“No,” Harry insisted. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Is it the sex?” Cedric asked. “Because I told you we can wait until you’re ready. If you think we’re going too fast, I would never –”

“No!” Harry said. “This isn’t about that!” Stumbling to find an explanation, yet unwilling to reveal too much, he added, “It’s just, it’s too much. All these secrets, I can’t do it anymore.”

”What do you mean? What secrets?” Cedric demanded. “You mean the school? Not telling everyone. Because I thought you wanted to keep us a secret, I thought we were both waiting until after the tournament, but if you want to come out now –”

“NO! God! That’s the last thing I want!” Harry shouted.

Cedric stared, disbelief shifting slightly into anger.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“I didn’t –” Harry stammered, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well how did you mean it then?” Cedric challenged, his anger rising. “What, you don’t want people to know we’re together?”

“Yeah! Maybe!” Harry shot back, starting to get a bit angry himself. “So what? Maybe I want to keep my private life private! Maybe **_I_** don’t want the entire school knowing that I’m – that I’m a –”

“That you’re a what?” Cedric inquired. “That you’re a wand-biter like Diggory?”

“No one calls you that,” Harry informed him. “And that’s not the point. None of this is.”

“Well, what **_is_** the point then, Harry?” Cedric wondered, sounding more annoyed than angry now. “You call me here, after I haven’t seen you in more than a week, and you tell me you want to break up with me without even giving me a good reason?”

“I have my reasons,” Harry said quietly.

“WELL WHAT THE **_FUCK_** ARE THEY?”

For a minute, Harry was stunned. He’d never really heard Cedric shout before, except once, on the day of the first task. He was telling someone else off for wearing a Potter Stinks badge. He was defending Harry. And now Harry was the one he was shouting at. Cedric was normally so calm, so forgiving.

“Cedric, please don’t shout at me,” Harry said.

“I’m sorry,” Cedric replied. “I didn’t mean to – I didn’t –”

He started taking halted, gasping breaths. He was shaking, and Harry knew it had nothing to do with being cold. Cedric – strong, reliable Cedric – was coming apart at the seams. It was as horrible to watch as it was to be the cause of. This was killing them both, but Harry couldn’t stop it. Not while that lingering fear was still haunting him, telling him that this was the right thing to do. So instead he had to stand by, and watch, as the boy he cared so much about broke down.

“I don’t understand,” Cedric said meekly, voice laced with tears, “what did I do?”

“Nothing,” Harry said, honestly. “Absolutely nothing. You didn’t do anything wrong, I swear. It’s me. My fault. I fucked everything up. Not you.”

An icy wind passed between the two of them. It made Harry think of their anniversary, when they lay under that fake but still warm summer night’s sky. It made Harry want to curl up in Cedric’s arms, take it all back, let him in, at last.

“I should go,” Harry said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Cedric didn’t respond as Harry walked past him, back toward the castle.

Alone.

  



	21. Without Love

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

“Without Love”

  


The next morning, when Harry woke up, he remembered the events of the night before. He then rolled over and wished he never had to wake up again.

Everything from after he left Cedric freezing and heartbroken behind the greenhouses was a bit foggy. Somehow he’d gotten all the way up to the Gryffindor Tower. Somehow he made it to his room, and into bed. And somehow he’d fallen asleep, although that he was the most baffled by. He fully expected to be tossing and turning all night with regret and shame. On the contrary, it was like he had fallen into a sort of guilt-induced coma.

Now that he was awake, however, the reality of what had transpired was beginning to sink in.

“ _I don’t understand,_ ” Cedric’s voice rang in Harry’s ears, battered and broken, “ _what did I do?_ ”

The words cut into Harry like a knife. All of Cedric’s accusations and pleas played over and over in his head. They were a nightmarish soundtrack stuck on repeat, until the sound of the dormitory’s door opening broke their echo.

“Hey, you awake?” someone asked from the doorway. “Harry?”

Ron.

Harry could recognize his voice, of course. But he sounded miles and miles away through the blaring sound of Cedric’s sobs, still playing in his mind. Harry tried to respond, but his jaw felt like it was glued shit. And even if he could open it, his throat was refusing to work.

“It’s almost lunch, mate,” Ron said impatiently. “You’ve been in bed all morning.”

Had he?

Time didn’t seem real to Harry. Everything was all jumbled. His first night out with Cedric felt like it was years and years ago, even though it’d only been two months. Yet their first encounter, in the hospital wing, the first time Cedric squeezed Harry’s hand and smiled at him, suddenly felt as recent and vivid as the memory of Cedric falling apart as he discovered why Harry called him behind the greenhouses.

Soon Ron gave up, and turned back out of the dormitory. A few minutes later, or maybe hours as far as Harry knew, he returned with Hermione in tow. She swept around his bed and knelt beside him. Ron remained standing at a distance.

“Harry?” she said. “Are you all right?”

Harry shook his head. He didn’t want to, didn’t want to move, didn’t want to think, didn’t want to give any sort of response. He wanted to simply lie there, immobile, for about a week. But he knew it was rude not to answer, and that she would keep asking if he didn’t respond.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked. “Are you sick?”

“He was out behind the greenhouses last night,” Ron supplied. “With, y’know, Cedric.”

“That was a stupid thing to do, it’s freezing outside at night.” She felt Harry’s face. “You don’t seem to have a temperature.”

Reluctantly, Harry mumbled, “’m not sick.” And even that took more than the usual bit of effort.

“Well, something’s wrong,” Hermione insisted. “Why don’t you just tell us? Maybe we could help. Why didn’t you meet in the Room of Requirement anyway?”

“Couldn’t,” Harry mustered.

“Did something happen last night?”

She brushed Harry’s bangs off of his forehead. Her fingers grazed the spot that Cedric had kissed in greeting the night before. Something about the gesture broke a dam inside of Harry.

“We broke up,” he confessed.

The words spiraled in Harry’s mind. They sank deeper and deeper into his heart. He wished he hadn’t said them because saying them, out loud, to his closest friends, made it more real than ever before.

Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth as she gave a tiny gasp of shock. Ron barely reacted at all, except to look away. Hermione frowned sympathetically.

“Are you – well, no, of course you’re not okay,” Hermione gathered. She straightened up and cleared her throat. “All right. All right, you just- just stay up here, that’s fine. We’ll bring you up some food. I’m going to take care of your homework this weekend, so don’t worry about that. You take the next two days to… do whatever it is you need to do, all right?”

Harry stared up at his friend. Her eyes were slightly teary, but her voice was strong, reassuring. She was being kind of supportive that she was when she told Harry she loved him after he came out to her. For the first time in days, Harry felt the slightest bit at ease.

“Thank you,” he said, in a voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re welcome,” Hermione replied.

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Then she headed back toward the stairs, giving Ron a significant look, clearly communicating that he was to follow her. And he did, frowning.

“How come you’ll do homework for him and not me?” he groused.

“Get your heart broken and I’ll do your homework,” Hermione retorted.

Back across the room, Harry’s heart lightened at the familiar sound of his friends bickering. He didn’t smile, and still didn’t feel like he’d be smiling again anytime soon. Even so, Harry’s spirits lifted a fraction.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


For the next day and a half, Harry lay alone with his thoughts. Neither Ron nor even Hermione pressed him for further details about his break up. Ron got Neville, Dean and Seamus to clear out for the most part during the day so Harry wouldn’t have to face them in his current state. Hermione brought him food and insisted that he eat it. Harry ate enough to satisfy her so she would leave, then threw out the rest.

News of his isolation spread within Gryffindor. That much was inevitable. Ron and Hermione had most people convinced that it had to do with stress from the tournament. It kept them from trying to peak in on him, allowing Harry to brood in peace.

At least until late Sunday afternoon when, to Harry’s surprise, a visitor entered his dorm.

“Hello, Harry,” the boy greeted him.

Harry managed a sigh.

“Fred, if you’re here to cheer me up or something, there’s no point,” he warned.

“I’m not,” Fred assured him.

Fred crossed the dormitory, slowly, casually. He sat at the foot of Harry’s bed without asking permission. Harry wanted to ask him to go away, but he didn’t. He could brood with someone in the room just as well as without.

“So what happened, eh?” Fred asked suddenly. “You two have a fight?”

“Sorry?” Harry replied, confused.

“You and Diggory,” Fred clarified.

Harry’s empty stomach clenched.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“Oh, come on, Harry,” Fred replied. “Don’t try to play a player.”

Harry regarded Fred. He looked more sincere than Harry had ever seen him. Whether it was because of the seriousness of the Weasley twin’s expression or simply because of sheer emotional exhaustion, Harry couldn’t muster the energy to lie anymore.

“We broke up,” Harry answered. “We… I broke up with him.”

Fred’s eyebrows raised a fraction.

“Ouch,” he said. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He turned his eyes away from Harry’s, smirking. “Too bad, too. I always thought Diggory was hot. I didn’t know he played for our team, though, until, well… Until you two happened.”

Harry stared.

“Wa- what?” he asked, baffled. “What do you mean, ‘our team’? Because you’re not… I mean you can’t be…”

Fred smiled.

“Can’t be what?” he wondered. “Queer as a wooden Galleon?”

“Are you?”

“So what if I am?” Fred shot back.

“Nothing,” Harry replied. “Just… I never knew. I mean, I’d never’ve known.” A thought occurred to him. “But didn’t you take Angelina to the Ball?”

“Well, I had to take a girl, didn’t I?” Fred answered. “Besides, she knows.”

“Does George?” Harry asked.

“Of course he does,” Fred laughed. “Like I could keep it a secret from him. George was the first person I came out to. He thinks it’s great. Says he doesn’t have to worry about competition from me with the girls anymore.”

“I had no idea,” Harry marveled.

He felt a little embarrassed about how amazed he must’ve sounded, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m a little surprised none of you lot ever figured it out,” Fred told him. “I’m basically out to every Gryffindor in my year, and loads more people beyond that. I thought gossip spread more quickly than that.”

“Wait, you’re **_out_**?”

“To some people, yeah,” Fred replied. “It’s not like I post fliers about it, it’s just… understood, y’know? Mum and Dad don’t know yet, or anyone else in my family. Except Bill. I knew he’d be cool with it.”

For the second time that weekend, Harry felt as though his world had been turned upside-down. He really thought he was coming to understand things, about himself, about homosexuality. But he hadn’t even had the slightest inkling that Fred was gay, let alone that there were students at Hogwarts who knew about him and were clearly fine with it.

“Have you…” Harry swallowed, a bit sheepish to ask his next question. “I mean, have you ever… been with another guy?”

“Loads,” Fred responded breezily. “Ooh, that does make me sound like a slut. Scratch that. Forget I said that. Not loads. But… enough.” He looked cagily at Harry. “Enough to recognize that you and Diggory were the real thing, anyway.”

Harry shrugged.

“I dunno.”

“Well, don’t worry about it,” Fred advised. “Hogwarts is teeming with gay blokes, and more than you’d think. Even in your year! There’s this Ravenclaw kid, Corner? Total bottom.”

“But I don’t really want another bloke,” Harry insisted, ignoring Fred’s comment. “…I still love Cedric.”

“Then why’d you dump him?” Fred inquired.

“It was getting…” Harry struggled to find the right words. “I mean, I’m only fourteen.”

“So?”

“So!” Harry echoed. “I’m… I’m too young to be in love. I’ve got years and years left. At least I hope so. And I’m not ready for all of it, being with someone, being out, I can’t do it.”

“Okay,” Fred interrupted, “I’m gonna stop you, because you sound really stupid right now. Harry, if you’re in love, you just are. Don’t go worrying about being too young, because you could have a hundred years left or maybe not even six months. The point is to make the most of what you know you’ve got. And as for, well, being out… It’s scary, sure. Being gay is more socially acceptable now than ever before, but that doesn’t make it any easier for the likes of you and me. And you don’t need to feel guilty about not being ready for it. You got that?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry said. He smiled the tiniest of smiles. “So you think Cedric’s hot? I thought you hated him because he beat us at Quidditch last year.”

“My feelings on the pitch have no bearing on my libido off it,” Fred grinned. “I’ve been very jealous. Of both of you, for that matter,” he added, poking Harry in the stomach. It growled angrily at the provocation.

He looked hesitantly at Harry, then bent forward and kissed the younger boy on the cheek.

“You’re going to be fine, Harry,” Fred assured him.

“Thanks, Fred,” Harry replied gratefully.

Fred nodded, rising from the bed.

“Do me a favor, though?” he asked. “Don’t tell Ron about me.”

“He knows about me,” Harry pointed out.

“Yeah, and how well did he take that?” Fred argued.

“Fair enough,” Harry answered.

“And have something to eat, will you?” Fred ordered, turning toward the door. “Starving yourself to death won’t help.”

“Hey, Fred?” Harry said. The Weasley boy stopped, looked back and waited. “How do you know?” he asked finally.”When you’re ready to be out and all that.”

Fred sighed.

“As soon as I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

With a wink and a heartfelt smile, Fred left Harry alone once more. Thinking about Fred’s words of encouragement, Harry felt, for the first time all weekend, the smallest bit of hope.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


Monday morning was the first time Harry ventured out of the Gryffindor Tower since returning there from breaking up with Cedric. Fred’s visit had done wonders to invigorate him, but he still wasn’t ready to face the outside world until he absolutely had to. Hermione had, rightfully, insisted that he shower Sunday night. She also, unfortunately, and despite Harry’s protests that he would be fine on his own, made Ron supervise, which he did with his back to the showers and under extreme duress.

It was a bit shaky, walking down to the Great Hall. Harry kept thinking every student who glanced his way knew about him and Cedric and what had happened. But that was, of course, impossible. As he choked down the oatmeal Hermione had put firmly in front of him, Harry’s apprehension slowly started to drain away.

Then, as he made his way across the entrance hall to get to class, he encountered Cho. And she slapped him across the face. Hard.

“Fuck you, Harry Potter!” she said in a voice cold as steel. “Just - fuck you!”

All the students around them stopped and stared as Cho marched off in a huff. Several people tittered, and a few ‘ooh’ed. Harry stood there, stunned. Ron and Hermione came up beside him, looking just as shocked. Harry turned to Hermione.

“Can I please go back up to my room now?”

Hermione shook her head sadly.

“You can’t hide forever, Harry,” she told him.

Harry swallowed a hard lump in his throat. She was right. He couldn’t run away. He was just going to have to endure it.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


The next several days were nothing but a blur to Harry. They were all full of schoolwork and working out how to breathe underwater. He saw Cedric rarely, and when he did he had the distinct impression that Cedric was purposely not looking at him.

Then, six days before the second task, Harry ran, almost literally, into Cedric, in the hallway after dinner. Upon realizing who he’d almost knocked into, Harry froze. They both did, gazes locked. Harry searched for something to say, anything, but his voice was frozen with the rest of him. It was Cedric who spoke first.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, voice hollow.

“Cho slapped me,” Harry blurted out. He felt like a tattle for saying that but it was the first thing to come out.

“Sorry about that,” Cedric said, sounding the most insincere Harry’d ever heard him be.

“Yeah, that’s… that’s okay,” Harry said. “I’ve mostly been working on the whole breathing underwater thing. Not too successful so far. I’m kind of freaking out about it.” He hesitated before asking, “How’re you holding up?”

“I’m not.”

Those few words carried a lot of weight. They were meant to crush him, Harry knew, and they did. He wanted to say something. The silence was killing him.

“I’m sorry –” Harry began.

“Don’t,” Cedric interrupted.

It was both a plea and a warning.

“Okay.”

Awkward silence fell once more. It only served to remind Harry of a time when neither of them could shut up for want of getting to know each other better. And now…

“I have to go,” Cedric said abruptly.

He stalked off before Harry had a chance to respond.

And for the hundredth time since he’d done it, Harry asked himself: if being apart from Cedric hurt him so much, why did he break up with him?

  



	22. Hopelessly Devoted to You

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

“Hopelessly Devoted to You”

  


“Here,” Cedric said, thrusting a brown paper bag at Harry. “Take this.”

It was the night before the second task, and it would not have been an exaggeration to say that Harry was in a panic over it. He, Ron, and Hermione had been unable to find anything useful. Most spells that aided in underwater travel involved magic well beyond the fourth year level. Hermione tried once or twice to suggest the Bubble-Head Charm but Harry refused flatly. He didn’t want to copy Cedric’s plan, not out of spite but respect. Even though the idea was tempting, as he was empty-handed and the task was nearly twelve hours away.

Of all the things Harry needed at the moment, a run-in with his ex-boyfriend was one of the last. He’d bumped into Cedric as he was heading down the meet Ron and Hermione for dinner. They hadn’t crossed paths since their last encounter almost a week before. Harry couldn’t help noticing that Cedric’s lips, the lips he’d gotten his first kiss from, were chewed raw.

He looked down at the package Cedric had shoved at him.

“What is this?” he wondered. It felt odd, like whatever was inside was soggy yet somehow it hadn’t soaked through the bag.

“Gillyweed,” Cedric replied tersely. “For the task. Swallow it right before you go into the lake and you’ll be able to breathe. It’ll even help you swim. I know you have trouble with…” He let his sentence go unfinished.

Forget breathing underwater, Harry was struggling to find his breath standing there in the corridor with Cedric’s magnanimous gesture. He had no obligation to help Harry, yet there he was, swooping in and solving the boy’s most troubling setback.

“Cedric, I –”

“The bag is sealed magically,” Cedric continued, “for freshness. Don’t open it until tomorrow morning.”

His gaze lingered on the bag for another moment. Not once during their entire conversation had Cedric made eye contact. He nodded once, then stepped past Harry.

“Thank you so much,” Harry said as he passed. “I can’t tell you how much–”

But Cedric didn’t stop, or make any sign indicating he had even heard him. He simply left Harry standing there, dumbfounded, holding a brown paper bag.

Rona and Hermione were already halfway through dinner by the time Harry arrived at the Great Hall. Hermione was reading from a large book, turning pages in between bites. Now that he didn’t have the question of what to do about the second task looming over his head, Harry found he was famished. He loaded up his plate and dug in voraciously.

“Where’ve you been?” Hermione asked. “You need to hurry up and eat so we can get to the library before it closes.”

“Why?” Harry responded, not paying much attention.

It was hard to focus on anything other than food at the moment. How had he not realized how hungry he was?

“Have you snapped or something?” Ron asked. “The tournament, remember? Breathing underwater?”

“Oh right!” Harry cried through a mouthful of potatoes. “It’s taken care of.”

“I’ve devised a new system for research,” Hermione said, “where we each take a different – wait, what?”

“What do you mean ‘taken care of’?” Ron said.

Harry pulled out the brown paper bag and passed it to Hermione.

“What is it?” she asked, looking curiously at it.

“Gillyweed,” Harry explained. “Don’t open it. It’s sealed. Magically. For freshness.”

“Where did you get it?” Hermione pressed suspiciously.

“Cedric,” Harry answered. “Just now, in the hallway. On my way here. He gave it to me. Said it would let me breathe underwater.”

Hermione pursed her lips.

“Well, that was very… nice of him,” she said slowly. “It is a bit like cheating for him to just give it to you.”

“Is it any different than you and Ron helping me?” Harry shot back.

“No,” Hermione replied, closing her book. “I guess not.”

“O’course it’s different,” Ron muttered. “We’re Harry’s friends. He’s not. The jerk.”

“Ron,” Hermione admonished.

“No, it’s the truth,” Ron replied. “Harry’s business is none of Cedric’s anymore. Where does he get off?”

“This was an amazingly kind thing that he did,” Harry said, impatience mounting. “I’d be completely screwed tomorrow if it wasn’t for him.”

“We’d’ve figured something out,” Ron grumbled.

“No, we wouldn’t have!” Harry said. His voice hadn’t risen in volume, only in intensity. “He did a good thing for me when he was in no way obligated to. We’re not even **_together_** anymore and you’re **_still_** being an asshole about him! You got what you wanted. We broke up. Isn’t that enough?”

Ron gaped at Harry. Hermione remained silent, staring at her plate.

“I didn’t want—” he sputtered.

Harry, however, was finished, with his dinner and with their conversation. The insatiable hunger he’d been feeling minutes earlier was gone. He gathered up his things, making especially sure to give Ron a dirty look at he snatched the gillyweed off the table, and left the Great Hall.

As he made his way to the top of the Gryffindor Tower, however, Harry’s anger slowly began to dissipate. True, Ron’s inexplicable hostility toward Cedric annoyed him, but Harry knew he could’ve handled the situation better instead of storming out like that. He only hoped his actions wouldn’t start another silly feud between the two of them. That really **_was_** the last thing he needed right now.

Upon reaching his dormitory, Harry felt very suddenly tired. It was like his appetite returning: now that he was no longer harboring the anxiety of being totally unprepared for the tournament, the exhaustion he’d been fighting off for weeks was finally catching up to him. He briefly considered going over old DADA notes to brush up on underwater creatures before deciding that there was no way he’d keep his eyes open long enough for that. Besides, it wasn’t for nothing that he had top marks in Defense.

Yes, now that he was ready to face the lake the next morning, Harry was best off getting a full night’s sleep in preparation. So he removed his glasses and set them beside the gillyweed on his nightstand. Harry fell asleep moments after his head hit the pillow, staring at the brown paper bag.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


The next morning Harry woke up a full hour before the task was to begin feeling refreshed and rather confident. The first thing he did after putting on his glasses was to check on the gillyweed. He was almost afraid that the whole thing had been a dream. But it was right where he’d left it, safe and sound. The second thing Harry did was glance over at Ron’s bed.

It was empty.

“That’s weird,” Harry muttered.

Ron always slept late when he could afford to. Harry wondered if he was upset about their argument last night. That wouldn’t account for his absence, though. Harry went down to the common room to look for him, but Ron wasn’t there either. Nor was Hermione, for that matter. Even stranger. She had to be up. She was the earliest riser of the three of them, and she almost always waited for Harry before leaving for breakfast. There was no way that today, of all days, she would have gone ahead without him.

More puzzled than ever, Harry headed down to the Great Hall alone. When he reached the Gryffindor table he still couldn’t find his friends. He did, however, spot Fred and George, taking bets.

“Hey,” Harry said, approaching them. “Have you seen your brother, or Hermione?”

“Eight knuts? Are you serious?” Fred asked one of the gamblers. Then, to Harry, “Ahh, no. Not since we left them last night.”

“Left them?” Harry repeated. “Left them where?”

“No no, Fred, he wanted to be put down for eight sickles, not knuts,” George corrected his brother. To Harry he said, “McGonagall had us escort them up to her office. Last time we saw them they were in there with that, uh, the Ravenclaw chick. The Seeker. You know, friends with Diggory?”

“Cho?” Harry supplied.

“Yeah, her,” Fred answered, and to his brother, “Blimey, George, you are useless. We played them last year, how can you not remember her name?”

“I don’t know **_everyone_** ,” George argued.

“There was some little girl in there, too. Pretty. Talking some mighty fast French.”

“French?” Harry asked. “That’s… odd. You’re sure?”

“Well, I think we’d know if it was English, yeah?” Fred quipped.

“Huh. Okay,” Harry said. “Thanks guys.”

“No problem,” George responded.

“Yeah, and good luck,” Fred said with a wink.

Harry felt himself blush a bit. It was hard not to see such gestures from Fred differently now that he knew the Weasley twin was gay. He simply smiled and waved meekly.

“Or, y’know,” George added as Harry walked away, “depending on how the betting turns out, hope you drown.”

Harry moved a ways down the table and sat. The information that the twins had given troubled Harry. There was something about it that was nagging at him. Like a puzzle with pieces still missing.

What were Ron and Hermione called to McGonagall’s office for? Had they gotten in trouble for helping Harry with the task? But then why was Cho there? She didn’t help Cedric. And who was the little French girl? For what purpose could the four of them have been called to the professor’s office at the same time? What did those four people have in common?

Four….

Wait.

A light went off in Harry’s head.

 _But no, that can’t be right,_ Harry thought. _They would never… Except that’s the only thing that seems to make sense._

He had to be sure though, and there was only one person he knew he could ask. More than that, Harry had an obligation to that person, to let him know what he had figured out. So, not giving a damn about how it looked or what people would think, Harry got up and made his way along the Hufflepuff table.

Toward Cedric.

Oddly, for the morning of a Triwizard task, Cedric was sitting alone. Harry was a bit surprised, thinking he might be surrounded by well-wishers. Then he recalled the way Cedric got right before Quidditch matches, all reserved and quiet and withdrawn from the rest of the student body. Contemplative, he called it. Harry sat in the empty space to the boy’s left.

“Have you seen Cho this morning?” he asked abruptly.

“Wh-huh?” Cedric stuttered, shaken from his thoughts. “What? Why?”

“Have you seen her?” Harry asked again.

“I – no. Why are you asking me this?”

“‘We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,’” Harry quoted back to him. “I couldn’t find Ron this morning, or Hermione. I think… I think they’ve been taken, like hostages or something. And we have to rescue them.”

“Aren’t you afraid to be seen sitting next to me?” Cedric asked harshly, seeming to ignore what Harry had said.

“No,” Harry replied.

Cedric was silent for a minute, eyes fixed on the table they were seated at. Finally he said, “Okay,” then got up from the table and turned to go. Before leaving he said, very quietly, and still not looking at Harry, “Thank you.” And then he was gone.

Sitting alone, friends taken hostage and the boy he cared about barely speaking to him, Harry did his own bit of contemplation. It sort of figured that having everything he held dear being stripped away in the face of insurmountable odds was what helped him realize what was most important. That included Ron and Hermione. And it included Cedric. Maybe Fred was right. Maybe Harry was being stupid.

He glanced up and saw a girl seated across the table looking strangely at him. Harry wondered what her problem was until he realized he was still at the Hufflepuff table. Giving her an awkward smile, he rose from his seat and left the Great Hall.

There was half an hour left before the task commence and, armed with his new theory about what he would have to do, there was something Harry needed before going into the lake.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


He took the stairs of Gryffindor Tower two at a time. He wasn’t due at the lake for almost half an hour but that was no reason to dawdle. Plus he wasn’t really sure where he’d left the thing he needed, so he wanted to make sure he had time to find it. Harry reached his dormitory and threw the door open. In the middle of the room stood Neville Longbottom, holding an open book, his eyes wide.

The cover of the book bore the title Magical Mildew: A Wizard’s Field Guide to Functional Fungus.

Harry tensed, because he knew that that copy of Magical Mildew was not what it appeared to be. It was actually Harry’s copy of Wizardry and Homosexuality, A Retrospective: From the Dark Ages to the Modern Era, which Hermione had disguised to look like Magical Mildew so that Harry could read it without his classmates knowing what it was. At least, until now. Harry let the door shut behind him. The sound jarred Neville out of his shock. He looked up and saw Harry standing there.

“Harry!” the boy yelped. “I wasn’t – I mean, I didn’t mean to go through your things! I saw this on your nightstand and thought it was one of mine. Because, you know, Herbology and all.”

 _Shit,_ Harry thought. _The nightstand. Where I left it after going to bed last night. Because I’m an idiot._

“It is yours, isn’t it?” Neville asked uneasily.

For a moment Harry considered denying ownership of the book, claiming he’d found it or taken it out of the library by accident. It would’ve been easy. But then how did he explain the mismatched cover? And, more to the point: Harry didn’t want to lie. After all the lying he’d done the past few weeks, to Cedric, to his friends, to himself, Harry was sick of it, more sick than he’d been before breaking up with Cedric in the first place.

“Yeah,” Harry answered firmly. “Yeah, it is.”

Neville’s eyes were glued to his feet.

“So you’re…”

 _Now or never, Potter,_ Harry thought to himself.

“Yeah,” Harry confirmed, ignoring the nervous pit it put in his stomach. “I’m gay.”

The other boy nodded.

“That’s, um, that’s cool,” he said. “I mean, really. That’s cool. And I won’t tell anyone!” he assured Harry. “I mean, we’ve all got our secrets, right?” Neville handed Harry the book back and grinned at him.

 _Is Neville coming on to me?_ Harry wondered.

“Er, thanks, Neville,” Harry replied uncertainly.

Neville smiled. He headed for the stairs, giving Harry a friendly pat on the shoulder before leaving. Harry stared at the book in his hands.

“Well,” he said to himself, “no more leaving this on the nightstand, that’s for sure.”

He sat on his bed and pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, placing Wizardry and Homosexuality, A Retrospective in it and shutting it firmly. Harry lay back and rubbed his face, at a complete loss. This wasn’t the morning he thought he’d be having when he left that bed a short while earlier. He checked his watch. Nearly twenty minutes left until the task.

Right. The task.

Harry’d almost forgotten, given the strange situation he found himself in. He set to work searching for the thing he’d come up to his room to find in the first place. As he looked, Harry wondered what would’ve happened had he not walked in on Neville with his book. And what if someone else had mistakenly picked it up instead, like Dean or Seamus? Or, even worse, if Harry’d left it somewhere outside his dorm, and Malfoy found it. Harry shook his head. No sense worrying about something like that. And so what if they did? Harry was starting to realize that, no matter how long he kept his secret, it wouldn’t change the outcome when it finally was discovered. Making himself miserable in an attempt to delay it was deeply stupid.

After rummaging through his trunk for almost ten minutes, and vowing that if and when he survived today he would organize his belongings, Harry found the object he’d been looking for: the knife Sirius gave him for Christmas. Armed for the task at hand, and as mentally prepared as he was likely to get, Harry headed down to the lake.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


The task went off without a hitch.

Mostly.

The gillyweed worked exactly like Cedric said it would. Not that Harry had any doubt. It was a strange yet exhilarating experience, swimming through the lake. It made Harry think of flying, only underwater rather than in the air. And the merpeople were fascinating. To look at, anyway. To interact with, they were a bit rude and condescending.

It was especially difficult being confronted with Cedric in the mervillage. For one thing, he was wearing nothing but swim trunks. For another, the Bubble-Head Charm had magnified his facial features in odd ways, making his shredded lips and bloodshot eyes look completely out of proportion. His jaw had tightened when Harry offered him use of his knife, but he did accept it with a curt nod. After releasing Cho, he stared at Harry for a long moment before taking off toward the surface. Conversely, Krum, when offered the knife, had batted Harry’s hand away, knocking it to the floor of the lake. By the time Harry relocated it, Krum was gone.

Harry’s decision to make sure that all of the hostages were rescued proved to be less stupid than it should have, to his immense relief. In the end he was tied in points with Cedric.

Harry didn’t appreciate the cosmic irony.

The festivities following the task went on throughout the rest of the day, spanning from lunch until dinner, and then picking up after dinner again. The twins led the carousing, providing most of the decorations and refreshments. Whichever way the betting had turned out must’ve been beneficial to them, because they did their fair share of celebrating and then some.

Exhausted of the never-ending party, Harry collapsed into a chair in the corner to be alone. A few minutes later, Ron appeared.

“I thought you might be hungry,” he said, sitting beside Harry.

Ron offered him a plate of snacks. Harry was touched.

“Hey, thanks!” he replied, taking them graciously. He nibbled on a lemon pastry.

“No problem,” Ron assured him. “So, uh, I’m the thing you’d sorely miss, eh? That’s sorta gay.”

And just like that, the moment was shattered. Harry snapped, going from thinking what a wonderful friend Ron was or wondering why he was being such an asshole in a second.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” Harry cried out exasperatedly. “What on Earth would possibly possess you to say that to me?”

“It was a stupid joke,” Ron said, ears growing pink. “Sorry.”

“Is that what this is all about?” Harry asked. “You’re worried that, by being my friend, people will think you’re gay?”

“What? No! Of course not!”

“Good,” Harry said. “Because, seriously, the only person you need to worry about thinking you’re gay already knows you aren’t.”

Ron stared at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on,” Harry said, giving him a significant look.

The other boy looked away. Harry was about to take another bite of his pastry when Ron spoke again.

“We kissed,” he said. He glanced fleetingly at Harry before elaborating, “Hermione and me.”

“Whaat!” Harry exclaimed. “When?”

“At the party,” Ron expounded. “At New Year’s.”

Harry reflected back to that night. Ignoring the dull pain he felt remembering spending most of the night with Cedric, he did recall that the two of them had gone missing as midnight drew near. And Krum asking if they had seen Hermione.

“That was almost two months ago!” Harry said. “You’re telling me this now?” As an afterthought, he added, “And what about Cho?”

“She made fun of the Canons,” Ron told him. “It would never have worked out. And as for Hermione, well… I dunno, it was… weird. And she and I haven’t even talked about it since.”

“Still, how could you not tell me?”

“You were always busy,” Ron retorted. “With, y’know – him.” Before Harry could respond, he rushed on: “Oh don’t deny it, you know it’s true. You’ve got him now, so there’s no room for me anymore. Even broken up he’s all you can talk about.”

“Because I’m in love with him!” Harry said in an urgent whisper. “But that doesn’t mean I love you any less!” He blinked as his words settled in. “…Whooa.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed, equally awed. “You… you’re in love with him?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “I think so. Doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

“Don’t be a git,” Ron said. “It’s not too late.”

“Isn’t it?” Harry countered. “Breaking up with him screwed things up in a very monumental kind of way.”

“Wait, hold on,” Ron interrupted. “ ** _You_** broke up with **_him_**?”

“Well, yeah,” Harry said, feeling like Ron was stating the obvious. “I told you that already.”

“No you didn’t!” Ron disputed. “You said you broke up! Ohh, Hermione is going to kill you. This whole time we’ve thought Cedric was the one who dumped you.” He paused a moment, then said, “Wait, but if you think you, y’know, love him, why did you break up with him?”

“It’s complicated,” Harry said bluntly.

“Try me.”

“I, just… I,” Harry struggled. “There is so much about my life that he still doesn’t know. About Voldemort,” Ron winced, but Harry pressed on, “and Sirius and all that. And I kept thinking, what if he can’t handle it? What if he decides that I’m not worth that kind of, I dunno, drama, or whatever? I just couldn’t tell him about all that. I couldn’t go through with it. But I couldn’t stay with him and keep lying like that. So I had to.”

Again, Ron simply stared at him.

“You’re a bigger idiot than I am!” he said finally.

“See, this is why I don’t talk to you about stuff like this.”

“You broke up with him to avoid getting hurt if you two ever broke up,” Ron replied. “I’m sorry, is there some way in which that isn’t the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard?”

“It – I – ” Harry sighed. “It made sense at the time.”

“Harry, just tell him the truth,” Ron advised him. Harry was about to argue, but Ron cut him off, saying, “No, Harry, trust me on this. That guy is absolutely, one-hundred percent crazy about you. Why do you think –” His ears turned pink again. “Why do you think I’ve been so jealous this whole time? I was worried he would replace me. But look, that’s not important right now. The point is, you mean everything to him. And if you think you might feel the same way about him, you need to be honest with him. You need to tell him.”

Harry blinked.

“Thanks, Ron.”

“Hey, what’re best friends for?” Ron said diffidently.

“Exactly this,” Harry told him. “And you know you are, right?”

“Yeah,” Ron said.

This time he sounded confident.

“So you and Hermione, eh?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Ron said. “I-I don’t know. We haven’t spoken about it. Ever. And then today she’s Krum’s hostage? It was probably a fluke or something.”

“I don’t know, mate,” Harry replied. “And as for the hostage thing, I wouldn’t worry about that too much. After all, you were mine, so it can’t mean that much.”

“Oh, nice,” Ron laughed, rising from his seat. “That’s rich. Fine, then. Now I don’t feel sorry for slipping you a Canary Cream with the food I just gave you.”

“Wait, seriously?” Harry frowned.

Ron shrugged, and disappeared into the crowd, smiling mysteriously.

His best friend’s guidance played over again in Harry’s head. He was right. Harry needed to stop running from his fears. He needed to face them head on. He needed to talk to Cedric. To do that, he needed a plan.

Which, he decided, having just turned into a giant canary, he would do as soon as he molted.

  



	23. So Much Better

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

“So Much Better”

  


Backward and forward, over and over, Harry paced the marble floor of the prefects’ bathroom. He was nervously awaiting Cedric’s arrival. That is, if he was coming. That is, if Harry’s message had even reached him. Within minutes of shedding his canary exterior, he’d formulated a plan and acted quickly on it. It was risky, but he couldn’t wait. There was too much at stake. He simply hoped the ends would justify the means.

The tub was empty. Harry stared at it for a long time when he first entered the room, remembering when he’d last been in it with Cedric. That was nearly a month ago. It felt longer, but then time had been crawling at a Streeler’s pace since that night, when Harry started doubting his and Cedric’s relationship.

 _And it’s moving even more slowly now,_ Harry thought with irritation.

He’d been waiting for half an hour. Which, in reality, was not all that long. Sometimes it took him twenty minutes simply to get to the ground floor. But when you’re waiting for someone like Harry was waiting for Cedric, half an hour can feel like an eternity. Unfortunately, the extensive wait time did not help Harry decide what he should say when Cedric did show up.

At last, the bathroom door opened. With sudden fear, it dawned on Harry that Cedric wasn’t the only person with access to the bathroom. And, technically speaking, Harry was not supposed to be there. Thankfully, however, it was not some random prefect, and Harry was not going to get busted. Instead, to Harry’s mixture of relief and anxiety, it was Cedric. His face was expressionless, his lips still swollen and raw. He held up something shiny, small, and silver; Harry’s Snitch locket.

“I got your message,” he said in an unimpressed manner. He handed the Snitch to Harry, who put it back on the chain around his neck.

“Thanks for coming,” Harry said.

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Cedric replied, voice lightly tinged with anger. “It kept buzzing about my head until I opened it.” Then, in a tone of mild curiosity, he asked, “I didn’t know you could make it do that.”

“A little charm Hermione taught me,” Harry admitted. “She said it was a Carrier Charm. I figured it was worth a shot. Guess I was right.”

“Well, I’m here,” Cedric stated. “What do you want?”

Harry was now faced with a dilemma. Similar to when they broke up, he couldn’t think of where to start or what to say. So, like then, he decided to just go with his gut and hope for the best.

 “Well,” Harry began, “for starters, I want to tell you I’m sorry –”

 “If that’s all this is about…” Cedric interrupted, starting to turn away.

 “No, just listen,” Harry insisted. “I’m sorry for ending things that way. It was stupid. **_I_** was stupid. Really, **_really_** stupid, and immature. I should have just trusted you enough to tell you the truth.”

That seemed to keep Cedric’s interest.

 “The truth?” he asked.

 “There are things you still don’t know about me,” Harry said. “Things that I was afraid to tell you, because I didn’t know if you could handle it. If I could trust you.”

He thought about that statement. It hadn’t felt right when he said it to Ron, and it didn’t feel right now either. Because it wasn’t the whole truth about why he broke up with Cedric.

 “No,” Harry said, growing bolder. “No, that’s too easy. It was more than that. I think… I think I was afraid to tell you because I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. Sure, I love Ron and Hermione, but it’s different. And if I told you all these things I’ve been holding back, if I let you all the way in and someday things didn’t work out between us or whatever, it would have been so much worse. So when you said you were falling in love with me I got scared, and instead of facing that fear I ran. But I don’t want to run anymore. I don’t want to be that guy, because… I do love you. I love you.”

For a second, Cedric’s face remained impassive. Then, like a slow sunrise, the slightest hint of a smile appeared on his lips. But Harry wasn’t done yet.

 “My godfather is Sirius Black,” he blurted out.

Cedric’s tiny smile disappeared. Now instead he looked baffled.

 “Your god- **_what_**?”

 “My godfather is Sirius Black,” Harry said again. “When he broke out of Azkaban and everyone thought he was trying to kill me, he wasn’t. He was protecting me from the person who really committed the crime he was imprisoned for, Peter Pettigrew.”

 “Petti- but he died!” Cedric argued. “Everyone knows that! Sirius Black killed –”

 “No, he didn’t,” Harry replied. “It’s a longer story than this, but the sum of it is that Sirius is innocent, and Pettigrew is still alive. The only people that know the truth are me, Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore.” Thinking about it, he added, “Well, and Snape, but he hates Sirius so he doesn’t really care.”

 “He – you – ” Cedric looked like his head was spinning. Then, in a voice more calm than Harry would’ve thought him capable of, he said, “You’re serious.”

 “No, my godfather is Sirius, I’m Harry,” the other boy quipped. When Cedric didn’t respond, he added, “ ** _That_** was a joke.”

 “And this is why you broke up with me,” Cedric said.

 “I thought it was,” Harry replied. “I thought I was protecting Sirius, but I think, really, I was protecting myself. Listen, Cedric, my life is complicated. Someone has tried to kill me at least four times, maybe five now with the tournament, and it’s almost always Voldemort, in some way, shape or form. I know you’ve heard the rumors.”

 “I don’t think anyone hasn’t,” Cedric admitted.

 “Yeah, well, while they may be, for the most part, complete dragonshit,” Harry said, “there is a grain of truth to them. I’ve stopped Voldemort when I was a baby, and I’ve kept him from returning to power twice since then. There’s a definite chance that, if he’s still out there somewhere, he’ll come for me again. Now, if you can’t handle that, that’s… Well, that would suck, a lot. But I would understand. This is it, though. This is me. No more secrets.”

For a long time, neither boy spoke. Harry was worried that his words had no effect on Cedric. He took some comfort in the thought that if they hadn’t Cedric probably would have left already. Then, at last, he spoke.

 “Remember last week?” he asked. “When we accidentally ran into each other in the hall?”

 “Yeah,” Harry replied. “It was awkward.”

 “Yeah,” Cedric agreed. “It wasn’t an accident. I purposely positioned myself so that you’d bump into me because I wanted to check up on you. To make sure you were okay.”

 “Why are you telling me this?” Harry asked, touched by this surprising revelation.

 “Because it’s important for you to know that,” Cedric explained, “that even though you broke my heart that night, you never left it. Not for one second.” He reached out timidly and took Harry’s hand. “I love you, Harry,” he said.

 “I love you too, Cedric,” Harry replied, taking Cedric’s other hand.

They smiled at each other. Then Harry leaned up and gave his boyfriend-once-more a short, sweet kiss.

At least is started short and sweet. The kiss rapidly escalated in intensity, arms wrapped around each other, bodies pressed tightly together. Nineteen days apart made each boy hungry for the other’s touch. Harry drank in the feel of Cedric’s body. It was like coming home again after a very long day, so familiar, so comfortable, so damn **_right_**. But it wasn’t enough. He needed more. His hands slowly traveled down Cedric’s body to the front of his pants and pressed.

 “Mm!” Cedric cried out in surprise. “What’re you doing?”

Harry didn’t answer. Or, rather, not verbally. Instead he his hands fumbled with Cedric’s belt buckle then carefully undid his fly. Before Cedric could stop him, Harry was on his knees, feeling completely out of his depth but eager to please. Perhaps slightly too eager, as Cedric had to warn him once or twice to be more careful with his teeth. Still, he got the job done. And then it was Cedric’s turn to return the favor.

Harry was still in the aftershock of this favor when Cedric, having finished cleaning them both up, laid next to him. Harry looked at Cedric, huffing and puffing, and leaned over to kiss him gratefully.

 “I love you,” he said again.

 “I love hearing you say that,” Cedric smiled. He propped himself up on his elbow and placed his other hand on Harry’s chest, which was still shuddering a bit.

 “Well, I love saying it,” Harry smiled back, with a bit of a laugh.

He pulled his pants up, then held the hand on his chest with both of his own.

 “So is Cho going to be mad at you for getting back together with me?” Harry asked, thinking back to when she slapped him.

 “She was just upset,” Cedric said, squeezing Harry’s hands with his. “She cares a lot about me. I think that’s why she was so okay when I came out to her. And, well, I was sort of broken up when we, uh, broke up. But as long as I’m happy, she’ll be happy.” Then he laughed. “I still can’t believe she slapped you!”

 “It’s not funny!” Harry replied. “Apparently the whole school is talking about it. You know there’s people who think I got her pregnant or something?”

 “You’d better not have,” Cedric warned him.

He tickled Harry’s chest a little. Harry squirmed, but smiled. It felt good to smile so genuinely again. It was perfect. Or, rather, would have been perfect, had it not been for one last lingering, nagging thought gnawing Harry. A month ago, Harry would’ve ignored it. But after the promise he’d just made, that there’d be no more secrets, he couldn’t keep quiet.

 “Cedric, there’s something else,” he began hesitantly. “It’s nothing bad. Really. Only…” Seeing the concern in Cedric’s eyes, Harry took a deep breath and said quickly, “I’m not ready to be out.”

 “Of course not,” Cedric answered. “We’ve talked about this. With the tournament and everything –”

 “No, not because of the tournament,” Harry insisted. “Because of – because of **_me_**. Because of who I am. It’s one thing if you come out. Sure, the whole school would find out. But if it was me – the whole world finds out! Like it or not, I’m more than a faceless Hogwarts student. I’m Harry Potter. The name, not the person. And I’m not ready for that. Maybe someday, but right now…”

 “Harry,” Cedric said firmly, squeezing the younger boy’s hand. “How many times do I have to tell you, I would never make you do something you’re not comfortable with, whether it’s sex or coming out or anything. It doesn’t matter to me, as long as we’re together, and you’re happy. Got it?”

 “Got it,” Harry responded.

 “Uhm,” Cedric said, “I have something for you.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny piece of paper, It was a photo, though it couldn’t have been more than five centimeters squared. The image was from the Yule Ball. It was the picture Cho had taken, of Cedric dipping Harry on the dance floor.

 “I was going to give it to you for Valentine’s Day,” Cedric explained. “But, well… y’know. I’ve sort of been carrying around with me.”

 “This is so great, thank you,” Harry said. “…Why is it so tiny?”

 “Oh! So you can fit it inside your locket,” Cedric told him.

 “Huh.”

Harry lifted the silver Snitch around his neck. Its circumference was about the same as a 2p coin. Still too small for the picture to fit comfortable.

 “I’d have to fold it,” Harry observed.

 “That’s why I put a Wrinkle-Free Enchantment on it,” Cedric said. “You can fold it up as many times as you want, and then when you unfold it, it won’t have any creases.”

Harry tested this, folding the miniscule photo over until it was a size that would fit inside the locket, then unfolded it. There were he and Cedric, dancing and laughing and wrinkleless. He folded it again and put it inside the locket, snapping the Snitch shut. He smiled at Cedric.

 “Thank you,” he said.

 “I figure tonight is still technically our three-month anniversary,” Cedric said, “even if we weren’t together for most of this month. So we’ll call it an anniversary present.”

Harry griped Cedric’s hand a little tighter. He knew his boyfriend was kidding, but he still had to ask…

 “Cedric,” he said, “do you think that we’ll ever be like we were before, after what happened?”

Cedric regarded him seriously.

 “No, probably not,” he said. Then his expression softened. “But I think… we can be better.”

Harry nodded.

Better would be good.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Sorry for putting you through that emotional roller coaster there, but it can't all be happy-fun-times.
> 
> If you like what you're reading, I'm writing a book! Follow me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/misterkevo) and [Tumblr](http://misterkevo.tumblr.com) for updates!


	24. When the Truth Comes Out

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**

“When the Truth Comes Out”

  


The morning after the second task, Harry awoke with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. Not only was the task over, but he had Cedric back in his life. And this time there were no secrets between them. He practically floated down to the Great Hall, grinning uncontrollably.

 “What’re **_you_** smiling about?” Hermione asked when he landed at their usual spot along the Gryffindor table.

 “What isn’t there to smile about, Hermione?” Harry countered cheerfully. “The second task is over. The sun is shining. I’m with my two best friends in the whole wide world. Oh, and what was the other thing?” Harry pretended to ponder a moment before adding, in a quieter tone, “Oh, that’s right: I got back together with Cedric last night.”

 “AAH!” Hermione shrieked, throwing her arms around Harry. “That’s wonderful!” She pulled back uncertainly. “Right? It’s wonderful?”

 “No, yeah, it is wonderful,” Harry assured her. “Really, **_really_** wonderful.” Harry patted Ron on the shoulder. "I owe it all to you, man," he told him.

"Why's that?" Hermione asked.

"Ron's the one who encouraged me to talk to Cedric," Harry explained.

"I'm glad you listened," Ron said. "I just want you to be happy. And if Diggory makes you happy, well, good."

Hermione looked confused.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked playfully. "You think it’s impossible that I can give good relationship advice?"

"No no, it's not that," Hermione quickly replied. "I'm... surprised, is all. Glad, but... surprised."

Harry looked at the two of them. He thought about what Ron had told him last night, about how they kissed at Fred and George's New Year's Eve party. There was definitely something between them. The problem was that they were both too stubborn to do something about it. Harry wondered if either of them would ever budge. He hoped so. Life was too short not to be with the one you love.

If recent events had taught Harry anything, it was this.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


It was a blustery day early in March when a letter came from Harry’s godfather. It’d been so long since he’d sent Sirius the date of the next Hogsmeade weekend, and so much happened since then, that Harry had forgotten all about it. Until he read the abruptly-worded note telling him to be in Hogsmeade at two o’clock the following day, that is.

 “‘Bring as much food as you can,’” Ron read when Harry handed the note off to him and Hermione. “That’s weird.”

 “He’s on the run, Ron,” Hermione said. “I doubt he’s had a decent meal in a long time.”

 “Hehe, run, Ron,” Harry giggled. Then, off Hermione and Ron’s stares, added, “Sorry. I’m happy. Silliness is a side-effect.”

His happiness was now compounded by the prospect of seeing Sirius, despite the high risk factor. In fact, his good spirits weren’t even hampered by the spiteful article Rita Skeeter had written about him in Witch Weekly, or the Slytherins’ ensuing mocker. If anything Harry found the whole thing quite amusing.

 “That’s the best she can come up with?” Harry laughed. “All the true things about me that are so much worse and the best she can do is a love triangle between me, you and Krum?”

 “This is bad, Harry,” Hermione said gravely.

 “It’s not that bad,” Ron disagreed. “I mean, sure, she’s painting you out to be some sort of – of scarlet woman, but there’re worse –”

 “Not because of that!” Hermione said. “Because if she found –” She broke off, staring at Ron. “Hold on. ‘ ** _Scarlet woman_** ’?”

 “It’s what my mum calls them,” Ron explained, ears reddening.

 “You’re so cool, Ron,” Harry told him.

 “But this article isn’t all –”

Whatever there was about the article that Hermione was trying to tell them would have to wait, though, as Professor Snape chose that very moment to notice the three of them chatting. This resulted in the pitiless professor not only reading the article aloud to the entire class, but splitting their table up, making Hermione sit with Pansy Parkinson and Harry sit at the table in front of his desk. This, in turn, led to Harry being accused of breaking into Snape’s office and threatened with Veritaserum. Of all the times Snape had threatened Harry, this was the first that left him both nervous and confused at the same time. He had no idea what Snape was talking about; Hermione took boomslang skin once, but that was two years ago. The gillyweed, though. That rang a clearer, more recent bell.

Was that how Cedric had gotten it for him? Harry didn’t think Cedric would break into Snape’s private stores, but he couldn’t be sure. And if Snape truly were to slip Harry some Truth Potion, and Harry were to reveal these suspicions, who knew what kind of trouble Cedric could get into. And even worse, if he divulged his and Cedric’s relationship, in front of Snape, in front of the entire class…

By the end of the lesson, Harry was so nervously desperate to get away from the dungeons that he almost didn’t create an excuse to stay behind and eavesdrop on Snap and Karkaroff’s conversation. Almost. But he did. And what he overheard only served to increase his stress.

With all the bad things that had happened in a short amount of time, it was an immense relief to be done with classes for the week. Harry’s friends were waiting for him in the entrance hall. As they headed toward the marble staircase to return to Gryffindor Tower, Harry was immensely pleased to see Cedric coming down them. At least he thought he was pleased until Cedric opened his mouth.

 “Oy, Granger,” he said in a low, accusatory tone. “You trying to steal my man?”

Harry rolled his eyes.

 “Very funny,” he said.

 “No, it’s not!” Hermione snapped.

 “Uh, Hermione, it was a joke,” Ron said.

 “Well it isn’t funny,” Hermione said. “What about this do you guys not understand? That Skeeter woman is clearly getting desperate to write something scandalous about you, Harry.”

 “Yeah, but who cares?” Harry argued. “It’s a bunch of rubbish anyhow.”

 “It’s not **_all_** rubbish,” Hermione replied. She looked a bit sheepish as she said, “That part about me and Krum – him inviting me to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer and, and everything – it’s not entire untrue.”

 “What part of it is true?” Ron asked, his tone sharp.

 “Um. The whole thing, really,” she said. “It was right after we’d gotten out of the lake. But I don’t know how she could have overheard us! I didn’t see her anywhere nearby. And I’m sure I would have noticed that cow.”

 “Maybe she has an Invisibility Cloak or something,” Cedric theorized, “like Harry’s.”

 “Or she was using Polyjuice Potion,” Harry added, thinking about the accusation Snape had made toward him earlier that afternoon.

 “What did you tell Krum?” Ron asked flatly.

 “It doesn’t matter how she’s doing it,” Hermione said, ignoring Ron’s question. “The point is that she did it. And if she can find out about me and Krum, she can find out about the two of you. You need to be very careful.”

 “You’re right, Hermione,” Cedric said.

 “You’re **_always_** right,” Harry added.

 “I know,” Hermione said blithely. “We’ll meet you in the common room.”

She turned and started up the stairs, Ron following closely behind.

 “Seriously, though,” he said, “what did you tell Krum?”

The two Champions were left staring awkwardly at each other.

 “I should probably go, too,” Harry said reluctantly.

 “Yeah, me too,” Cedric concurred. “Do you wanna, y’know, later tonight? Meet in the Room around eight?”

Harry nodded. They smiled at each other and went their separate ways.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


After nearly three weeks apart, even the simplest things, like sitting on their couch in the Room of Requirement together, were enough to elate Harry. Which is exactly what they did that night. With Cedric’s arm wrapped around Harry, and Harry’s face nuzzling into the older boy’s chest, it was easy to let his concerns melt away.

 “Did you know that Fred Weasley is gay?” Harry asked idly.

The moment he said it, Harry regretted it. Ron’s older brother had come out to Harry in an effort to comfort him, in confidence. He’d even specifically asked Harry not to tell Ron. But Fred had also admitted that a lot of students in his year, the same as Cedric, knew. Plus, Cedric was gay, too. He doubted Fred would mind Harry telling him

 “Sort of,” Cedric answered. “One of those ‘friend of a friend knows someone who made out with him’ deals, you know? Of course that thing he said to me at New Year’s made it a bit more obvious.”

 “Oh, that’s right,” Harry said, craning his neck to look up at Cedric. “I forgot about that. What **_did_** he say to you?”

 “That I’m a decent bloke, and that I should take good care of you,” Cedric told him. “Something like that. I don’t remember exactly, it was months ago.”

 “How did this not come up before now?” Harry wondered.

 “It was kind of a crazy night,” Cedric pointed out. “And then the, uh, ‘unfortunate incident’ happened.”

 “Yeah,” Harry said. “He thinks you’re hot, by the way.”

 “Nice,” Cedric replied. “That certainly helps my Hufflepuff Hottie status.”

 “Hey now, Mr. Diggory,” Harry responded. “You’re **_my_** Hufflepuff Hottie.”

 “No arguments here.”

Harry shifted, falling more deeply into Cedric’s embrace. Doing so caused the letter from Sirius, still in his pocket, to crinkle a bit. Harry reached down and pulled the small bit of parchment out to look at it again.

 “What’s that?” Cedric asked.

 “A letter from, uh, Sirius,” Harry told him. “He asked me to meet him in Hogsmeade tomorrow.”

 “Is that a good idea?” Cedric asked, alarmed.

Harry shrugged.

 “Even if it isn’t, I can’t stop him from going. I may as well meet him when he does.”

Discussing his fugitive godfather with Cedric was still a bit new for Harry. It had been such a closely guarded secret for so long that letting anyone in on it was a very big deal. Harry was glad to have told Cedric, and glad to have no more secrets between them, but things were made more complicated by the fact that Sirius knew nothing his godson’s relationship with Cedric. He didn’t even know the boys were friends, let alone more than that. At least, not yet he didn’t.

An idea came to Harry.

 “Why don’t you go with us tomorrow?”

 “Is that a good idea?” Cedric asked again after a pause, more slowly and more guardedly than the first time.

 “Why not?” Harry shot back.

 “I don’t know, maybe because he’s never even heard of me before?” Cedric ventured.

 “He’s heard of you,” Harry insisted. “He knows that you’re the other Hogwarts champion.”

 “You know what I mean,” Cedric said. “Do you really think it’s best for us to ambush him like that, without any warning?”

 “Is it better to tell him by owl?” Harry argued. “‘Dear Sirius – How’s the weather where you are? Oh, by the way, I’m shagging a guy. All the best, Harry.’”

 “Well, it could definitely use some edits,” Cedric mused. He sighed. “You really want to do this, don’t you?”

Harry nodded.

 “What time tomorrow?”

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


 “Is that really a good idea?” Hermione said after Harry told her and Ron the next morning that Cedric would be coming with them.

 “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Harry wondered.

 “Maybe because you have bad ideas,” Ron answered, chuckling to himself. He immediately shut up when Harry and Hermione glared at him.

 “It’s like I said yesterday,” Hermione continued. “Rita Skeeter’s clearly looking for something on you. The three of us wandering off, that’s one thing, we’re always doing that. But Cedric going with us, as well?”

 “Why not?” Harry asked. “Cedric and I are friends. Everyone saw us hanging out on Christmas, at the Yule Ball.”

 “I know, I know,” Hermione said. “I just think that, especially in a situation like this, it’s an unnecessary risk. Half the Triwizard lineup seen gallivanting in Hogsmeade?”

 “Now hang on, I don’t recall making any plans to gallivant this afternoon,” Harry broke in.

 “Don’t make light of this, Harry,” Hermione chided.

 “And don’t tell me what to do, Hermione!” Harry snapped. He said it a bit harsher than he intended, and he knew it, but he pressed on. “It’s a big deal that I’m doing this. A very big deal. And I need you to support me here. So you can either be on board, or – or you can simply not come at all.”

Hermione looked shocked.

 “You’re right, I’m sorry,” she said. “I should’ve been supportive.”

Harry sighed, exasperated.

 “No, it’s me,” he replied. “I’m just… tense. Nervous about today. It was stupid of me to say you shouldn’t come.”

 “Don’t worry about it,” Hermione told him. “Or today, for that matter. It’ll be fine, Harry. Sirius loves you. He won’t care that you – that you –”

 “Play Quidditch,” Ron supplied.

 “Exactly,” Hermione said.

 “Yeah. Maybe,” Harry said absently. “You are right, though. It does look rather suspicious for us to be seen together.”

 “What if you told him to meet up with us at the thing where we’re meeting Sirius?” Ron suggested. “You know. The stile. No one should notice if we go separately.”

 “Good point,” Hermione said. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.”

 “What do you mean, ‘actually’?” Ron demanded.

 “Clearly she means you have bad ideas,” Harry told him with a smirk.

As soon as they were finished with breakfast, Harry went back up to his room and wrote a short note to Cedric explaining the situation and asking him to meet at the stile instead of walking there with them. He used Carrier Charm Hermione had taught him to send it using the silver Snitch. After about twenty minutes, Cedric’s response came fluttering back. It was brief:

  


_k, see you then, love you._

  


Around noon, Harry, Ron, and Hermione left together for Hogsmeade. Harry looked around for Cedric, to see if he could spot him heading out with the other students. It seemed that the older boy had taken Harry’s warning to heart and was avoiding him because Harry couldn’t see him anywhere. He wished he could, even if it was only fleetingly, an exchange of glances. It would’ve made Harry feel better. He may have been determined to go through with telling Sirius, but that didn’t make him any less uneasy.

They whiled away the early afternoon going from shop to shop. Harry was constantly checking his watch, only to remember each time that it was broken from being in the lake.

 “You need to relax, mate,” Ron told him as they inspected some trick wands in Zonko’s.

 “Easier said than done,” Harry muttered.

Harry didn’t know whether he was more relieved or distressed when, at last, Hermione announced that it was nearing two o’clock and that they should start heading toward their designated meeting place. They walked up High Street, toward Dervish and Banges, and kept walking right on by. Harry barely took in the cute little cottages and their well-tended gardens as they passed them. It was intriguing to see an aspect of Hogsmeade that he’d never seen before but his nerves were too shot to be excited about it.

All he could keep thinking was, _The next time we walk by these rosebushes, Sirius may have disowned me._

After a lengthier walk than he’d originally anticipated – if Hogsmeade truly was the largest all-wizarding village, Harry wondered how large the smaller ones were – they came to the stile at the end of the winding road. There waiting was a large dog, its black fur shaggy and its countenance very familiar.

 “Hello, Padfoot,” Harry said.

Harry’s godfather waged his tail happily at the sight of them. He jumped down from the stile and started walking away, barking over his shoulder to indicate that they should follow. Harry shook his head.

 “Not yet,” he told him. “We’re waiting for someone.”

Sirius sat on the grass, cocking his head to one side, clearly confused. A moment later, someone appeared around a bend in the road. It was Cedric, looking about as nervous as Harry felt. He was wearing, much to Harry’s amusement, a collared shirt and a tie. Sirius growled at him as he came closer.

 “Relax, Sirius,” Harry said calmly. “He’s a friend.”

His words didn’t seem to have any effect, because Sirius began barking. Cedric jolted at the sound. He looked like he wanted to run in the opposite direction, but he continued toward them.

 “I said relax!” Harry repeated, angrier this time. “This is my friend. And he’s coming.” Sirius’s response to this was a low growl, prompting Harry to add, “Or else I’m not going.”

The large black dog that was Sirius Black whined, then huffed indignantly and started off in the direction he’d been heading before Cedric arrived. Taking this as a sign of acquiescence, Harry climbed over the stile and began to follow. His friends did the same. Cedric quickly came up beside him.

 “That wasn’t a very good start,” he grumbled.

 “He just wasn’t expecting you,” Harry assured him. He bit back a laugh as he asked, “Um, why are you wearing a tie?”

 “I wanted to look good,” Cedric said defensively. “Make a good first impression. Meeting Sirius is basically like you introducing me to your parents. Why? Does it not look all right? Does it look like I’m trying too hard?”

 “You look fine,” Harry told him. “Don’t worry.”

 “Okay,” Cedric said, not really sound convinced. “How’s my hair?”

 “It’s very nice, Cedric.”

For the most part they traveled in silence. After fifteen minutes of climbing the steep, craggy path that Sirius was leading them, Cedric insisted on carrying Harry’s bag the rest of the way for him. Although Harry protested weakly, truthfully he was grateful to give it up. His shoulder was completely healed from the first task but it still got sore from time to time. Finally, they reached the small cave that Sirius had apparently been hiding in. Buckbeak the hippogriff was tethered to a large rock in a corner.

 “Hang on, I know that hippogriff,” Cedric said, eyeing the creature.

 “He’s Buckbeak,” Hermione said, bowing to the hippogriff and moving to stroke his feathers once he’d bowed in return. “Harry and I rescued him from being executed last June when Sirius escaped.”

 “Your number of felonies are really piling up, aren’t they, Harry?” Cedric noted.

 “What concern is it of yours?” a harsh voice asked.

Standing where the dog had been was a very unkempt, very thin man wearing tattered gray robes: Sirius Black. He was staring at Cedric. And he did not look pleased.

 “Sirius, this is Cedric,” Harry began. “He’s –”

 “The other Hogwarts champion?” Sirius recalled. “From Hufflepuff? What’s he doing here? And what the hell are you doing telling him about me?”

 “Well, like I was saying, he’s my –”

 “You can’t go around telling just anyone, Harry,” Sirius interrupted.

 “I know that,” Harry said, his patience beginning to wane. “He’s not just anyone, though, he’s my b–”

 “Oh, I suppose you’re going to tell me he’s a good friend of yours, are you?” Sirius interrupted again. “What, are you trying to impress the older boy? ‘I’ve got a felonious godfather who’s on the run, wanna meet him?’”

 “No!” Harry exclaimed. “Of course not!”

 “You need to be more careful, Harry! What on earth were you even thinking when you –”

 “He’s my boyfriend!” Harry shouted. The word ‘boyfriend’ seemed to echo off the cave walls. After giving a moment to let the word sink in, he continued, “And I thought that maybe you’d want to meet him, since he’s pretty damn important to me.”

Sirius looked like he’d been punched in the gut. He kept looking from his godson to the boy who’d been revealed to be his godson’s boyfriend. To his credit, Cedric didn’t look away when Sirius stared at him. He looked like he was about to throw up at any moment, but he still maintained eye contact. The same could not be said for Ron and Hermione, who were staring at the cave floor.

 “You – oh,” Sirius said finally. “I didn’t, er, I didn’t know. I guess – I mean it’s natural, at your age, to do some, uh, experimenting. I did, um, some of my own, back in my Hogwarts days –”

 “I’m not experimenting,” Harry replied forcefully.

 “I didn’t mean to imply that you were,” his godfather said contritely.

 “We’ve been together for more than three months,” Harry informed him.

 “Three months?” Sirius repeated, flabbergasted. He looked between the two of them again, then rubbed his mouth. “That’s… Okay. Well. I – I appreciate you being honest with me, Harry. I’m sure that it, it took a lot of, er, a lot of courage.” He cleared his throat. “You’ll have to forgive me, here, Harry. I’m a bit out of my depth.”

 “Don’t worry about it,” Harry said. “I just… I thought you ought to know.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the cave, broken only by the scratching of Buckbeak’s claws on the stone floor. Harry didn’t know what to do next. He’d sort of been hoping for something… **_more_**. He wasn’t sure exactly what, though. Sirius’s reaction left a lot to be desired. His approval would’ve been nice or even disdain if it gave Harry some insight to how his godfather was feeling. As it was, Sirius’s only reaction was to remain speechless, and avoid looking Harry in the eye.

Unable to stand the quiet any longer, Harry asked, “What’re you doing here, anyway? Someone might see you. If you’re caught…”

 “I am here,” Sirius told him, “because I am your godfather. And it is my duty to be here in case something happens. Besides, no one except Dumbledore and you three –” With a glance at Cedric, he amended, “Er, four, know that I’m an Animagus. I know I can trust you, Ron, and Hermione. And,” he added, addressing Cedric directly, “if Harry trusts you, then I believe I can, too.”

 “Thank you, Mr. Black,” Cedric said politely.

 “Yes, well…” Sirius replied, sounding displeased at being addressed so formally.

The rest of the afternoon went pretty much the same. After Ron diverted attention from that awkward moment by pointing out an article on Bartemius Crouch in one of Sirius’s _Daily Prophets_ , they all began discussing Crouch’s mysterious illness. From there they eventually segued to hearing Sirius tell them about the era of Voldemort. It was fascinating to hear about the old days, and what things were like at the height of Voldemort’s power. Fascinating, and terrifying. Harry found it difficultto lose himself in Sirius’s story, though, because every time Cedric would say something, or interject something his father had told him, Sirius would either brush the comments off or simply ignore them.

Harry was torn, between defending his boyfriend and not wanting to upset his godfather, his only real family, any more than he already had. He decided not to say anything, which, in the end, only left him feeling miserable about the whole encounter.

They left after a little more than an hour. Sirius barely said goodbye to them as they left the cave, merely nodding at Cedric. The four teens walked back from Hogsmeade together. Hermione started to protest, saying again that Harry and Cedric shouldn’t appear too chummy, but Harry silenced her with a glare. He didn’t care whether it was a good idea or not at the moment. The walk back to school felt much longer than the walk there.

 “Are you all right?” Cedric asked.

 “I guess so,” Harry responded. “I guess I was expecting… I don’t know. I don’t know what I was expecting.”

Harry thought about the dream he’d had on Christmas Eve, where Sirius accepted Cedric with open arms. He knew it was foolish then, same as he did now. Even so, he couldn’t help himself from hoping that his dream might come true. After the way Sirius behaved that afternoon, however, he doubted it ever would.

 “He really cares about you, Harry,” Cedric told him. “It’s obvious. The man’s living on rats, for Merlin’s sake. He’s not going to stop loving you because of – because of this.”

 “I hope not,” Harry said dismally.

 “And hey, it could’ve been worse,” Cedric pointed out. “After all: wait until we tell **_my_** dad.”

They both laughed at this, and then, once Cedric’s words sank in, fell into uneasy silence.

 “Yeah, we’re not telling him for a while,” Cedric said.

 “I’m gonna answer that statement with a resounding ‘yes,’” Harry replied.

  



	25. Not While I'm Around

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE**

“Not While I’m Around”

  


Cedric tugged at the Snitch locket’s chain around Harry’s neck and pulled him in, kissing him so fiercely it made the younger boy’s teeth hurt.

“Happy anniversary,” Harry murmured breathlessly as they pulled apart.

 “Hmm, you too,” Cedric said with a laugh.

Harry climbed off of Cedric and stretched out across the couch, catching his breath. His feet ended up in Cedric’s lap. This proved to be a bad idea, as Cedric proceeded to tickle them.

 “Hey, stop that!” Harry giggled, kicking his legs a little.

 “What? I’m not doing anything,” Cedric said innocently, folding his hands.

 “Yeah, sure,” Harry said, unconvinced.

He reached for his wand, lying on the floor with his pants and the rest of his clothes, and pointed it at the mess they’d made of themselves saying, “ _Evanesco_.” It always felt a bit weird using the Vanishing Spell to clean up in that way, like a tickle or a chill. In a good way. Cedric stroked Harry’s legs, smiling.

 “I can’t believe it’s been six months,” he said.

“Mm,” Harry replied.

It **_was_** rather unbelievable. In some ways, their relationship still felt so new, like they’d just started dating. And yet, Cedric had become such an important part of Harry’s life that he barely remembered a time that Cedric wasn’t in it.

But there was more to it that. It wasn’t simply Cedric’s presence in his life. He had a profound influence on Harry in the six months they were together. Where a year or two ago he was ashamed of his scrawny frame, now Harry was lying unabashedly naked on a couch with another boy. He was so much less afraid to be himself than he used to be. And he owed that, mostly, to Cedric. That and so much more.

He’d thought about that quite a bit in the days leading up to their anniversary. It made him want to do something for Cedric, and for himself, to commemorate the change. They’d agreed on no gifts, but still Harry wanted to make some gesture, something to mark how far they’d come.

“I wonder if the Room can conjure a television for us,” Cedric pondered. “I’ve always wanted a television.”

“I think we should have sex,” Harry blurted.

Cedric stared down at him, perplexed.

“Didn’t we just do that?”

“No,” Harry said, scrambling to sit up. “I mean **_really_** have sex. You know? That stuff we talked about? The, um,” Harry screwed up his courage and said, timidly, “the intercourse stuff.”

“Oh!” Cedric said. His eyes widened and he shifted awkwardly in his seat. “W-well. That’s, uh. Er, that’s… Wow. Really? You think – you think that we’re ready?”

“I don’t know,” Harry replied honestly. “I mean, I think so. Don’t you?”

“Well, you – er – uh… I don’t know,” Cedric confessed. “You’re not, you know, just saying you’re ready because you think that’s what I want, right?”

“Whaat?” Harry said. “Of course not. I’ve actually been thinking about it a lot lately. And I really do think I’m ready. That is, if you are.”

“Oh, I’m, uh, I’m definitely ready,” Cedric grinned.

“Yeah?” Harry said, glancing at Cedric’s crotch.

“Not right now!” Cedric laughed. “I’m sort of spent for the night. You,” he said, pulling Harry to his chest, “totally take it out of me. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re quite the hottie.”

“I thought you were the hottie,” Harry argued.

“We can share the title,” Cedric told him. “‘Harry the Hottie.’ I like the sound of that.”

“So, erm, if not tonight,” Harry said, “when were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Cedric said, running a hand up and down Harry’s arm. “Maybe in a week or two?”

“Two weeks!?” Harry cried in outrage. “You’d make me wait that long?!”

“All right, calm down, you horn dog,” Cedric chuckled. “I only say a week or two because don’t want us to rush it. We should talk some more first. It’s a big deal, the whole sex thing. There’s no hurry. We’ve got all the time in the world, right?”

“I guess so,” Harry said in defeat. “I mean, you’re right. I just got carried away, is all. A few weeks, that’s good.”

“Good,” Cedric said. He kissed Harry’s temple. “Now, seeing as tonight’s a school night, I think we should probably get going.”

Harry groaned.

“This is what I get for dating a prefect,” he muttered.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


As stealthily as he could, Harry crept in through the Gryffindor Tower portrait hole. He was doing a pretty good job, too, until he saw Ron sitting at table near the window in an otherwise empty common room. He nearly shrieked before composing himself.

“What are you doing up?” Harry asked. “It’s almost midnight.”

“I could as you the same question,” Ron shot back. “Out with your loverboy?”

“Don’t call him that,” Harry said, taking a seat at Ron’s table, “and yes, I was. It was a, um, special occasion.”

“Oh that’s right,” Ron said. “The anniversary. Did you, uhh, enjoy yourself?”

Harry grinned in spite of himself.

“Yeah, I did.”

“So, I was wondering,” Ron began uneasily, “when you two, er, you know… ‘play Quidditch’, who’s the, uh… I guess you could say Chaser, and who’s the Keeper?”

“Actually, right now, we’re both Beaters, mostly,” Harry responded without thinking.

They looked at each other for a moment, and then laughed hysterically.

“That was an odd question, coming from you,” Harry said.

“What do you mean?” Ron asked.

“Oh, be honest,” Harry said. “When I first started dating Cedric, you weren’t exactly the most supportive. Frankly I thought you’d never be comfortable with me being gay.”

“Hey, not everyone can be the one-woman cheering squad that is Hermione Granger,” Ron said in his defense. “Besides, it had less to do with you being gay and more to do with feeling threatened by Cedric.”

“Still, asking me about me about my sex life, what’s that about?”

“We’re men, Harry,” Ron told him. “This is what we do. Believe me, you’ll be hearing about my sex life, once I have one. You don’t need to give me the dirty details or anything. But, well, like I said: we’re men.”

Harry grinned.

“So what **_are_** you doing up, really?”

“Ahh, History of Magic essay due tomorrow,” Ron said, holding up his class notes, which always looked suspiciously more like diagrams of Quidditch plays than anything else. “Hermione gave some notes on my draft but she wouldn’t stay up with me to rewrite it.”

“How long are the two of you going to be weird like this?” Harry asked grimly.

Ron shrugged.

He and Hermione had developed a very business-as-usual attitude with each other. Hermione finally admitted their kiss to Harry two months earlier, but only after he’d implied heavily that he already knew about it. At first she was angry that Ron had told him until Harry pointed out that she knew everything about him, Harry, and it was unfair for her to keep secrets like that. She acknowledged that he was right and quickly stopped talking about it after that.

Whenever Harry tried to talk to one of them about the problem, they would automatically clam up. He’d given up broaching the subject unless one of them mentioned the awkwardness first, and even then he rarely pushed. He found it easier to, instead, ignore it like them and move on to a different subject.

“You know,” Harry said, doing just that, “it’s funny you should mention the whole, uh, Chaser/Keeper thing. Cedric and I, we, er, we decided tonight that we’re gonna go for it.”

“Oh yeah?” Ron replied, glancing up from his essay.

“Yeah,” Harry told him. “Probably in the next week or so.” He noted Ron’s hand twitch when he said it.

“Whoa, that’s… soon,” Ron noted.

“Not that soon,” Harry said defensively, “we’ve been together for a while now.”

“Hey, no arguments from me, mate,” Ron assured him. “Hermione’ll probably have something to say about it, but I think it’s great. Seriously, man. Cheers.”

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry said. “Need any help on your essay?”

“Nah,” he said. “But I could use the company, if you want to stay up with me.”

“Of course,” Harry replied. He leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the table, making sure not to jar it while Ron was writing. Amused, he asked, “How long have you been waiting to ask me that, anyway?”

“Like, three weeks,” Ron told him. They shared another laugh at this. Then Ron said, “So, which are you going to be then? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Harry frowned.

“I – I don’t know,” he said. “I never thought about it.”

The boys sat in silence for a while after that, one contemplating the distant past, and the other the very near future.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


As Ron had predicted, Hermione did have something to say about Harry and Cedric’s decision. Harry had enough sense to wait until their first break of the day to tell her so that she didn’t glare at him all through History of Magic. She did, however, still freak out a bit when he informed her of his impending plans.

“Calm down, Hermione,” Harry said. “It isn’t a big deal.”

“How exactly is it not a big deal?” Hermione asked.

“We’ve been doing stuff for months!” he reminded her.

“Yes,” Hermione said. “ ** _Stuff_**. But not this. Anal sex is—”

“Ohh no,” Ron groaned. “Can someone Obliviate me so that I won’t have to remember Hermione saying ‘anal sex’? Please?”

“—is a big deal,” Hermione finished. “Being with another person like that, letting them into your body, is major, both physically and emotionally.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Harry maintained.

“Oh,” Hermione said flatly. “Okay. You’re right. You know exactly what you’re doing. I suppose you already have condoms, then?”

“You know Cedric and I are both v-virgins,” Harry stammered.

“They’re not just for protection, Harry,” Hermione chided. “Sex is messy business. I’m sure you know what sort of lubrication you’ll be using, though. Whether you’re a top or a bottom. What positions you’ll use.”

“There’s positions?” Ron asked. “Blimey, it really does sound like Quidditch.”

“All right, Hermione,” Harry said, defeated. “I get the point.”

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” Hermione said in earnest. “I just want to make sure you’re prepared, so that you’re okay. **_Both_** of you.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “Except now you’ve gotten me more freaked out than I already was about all this.”

Hermione sighed.

“Hang on.”

She leapt out of her armchair and hurried through the entrance to the girls’ dormitory. Harry and Ron looked at each other, bewildered.

“Don’t you hate when she does that?” Harry said.

“Actually, I kind of like it when she does that,” Ron grinned.

“You’re both ridiculous,” Harry said.

Moments later Hermione came back into the common room. With a book.

“You have a book?” Ron asked. “For **_this_**? Seriously?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered.

“You really do have a book for everything,” Harry observed.

He took the book from her. It was a small paperback, not very thick. The cover read Arithmance Me and boasted ways to use arithmancy in your everyday life. But Harry knew better than to trust its cover. He opened it to the title page, which read: The Young Wizard’s Guide to Gay Sex. Harry looked up at Hermione, astonished.

“Let me see,” Ron said, snatching the book from him. He flipped through its pages. “Oh, gross,” he laughed, “there’s pictures. EW! And they move, too!”

“Don’t be such a child, Ron,” Hermione scolded.

“Hermione, if you can’t laugh about sex, you’re never going to have it,” Ron said wisely.

“How long have you had this?” Harry asked.

“Not too long,” Hermione said. “When the two of you started being intim—started doing **_stuff_** together, as you so crudely insist on calling it, I thought it might be a good idea to look into something like this. I sent an owl to Flourish  & Blotts in Diagon Alley asking what sort of resources they have for young gay wizards. They replied with a whole list. Apparently there are loads of books like this one, but this was the most highly recommended.”

“You’re a good friend, Hermione,” Harry told her. “You know that?”

“Just remember that without me you’d be blundering aimlessly through life,” Hermione replied. “I still have the list, too, if you ever want to give it a look.”

“I’d appreciate that, thanks,” Harry said. “Really, thank you.”

“Someone’s got to look out for you,” she shrugged.

Harry smiled, glad that someone was.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


For the next two days, Harry read The Young Wizard’s Guide every chance he got. He was extra careful not to take it out of his room, though. Wizardry and Homosexuality was one thing, at least that was merely a history book. But the Guide, on the other hand, was highly inappropriate. The images Ron had been grossed out by were indeed very graphic, and there were plenty of them. Harry only looked at this book in the safety of his own bed. This turned out to be for the best anyway, because the moving illustrations of attractive wizards demonstrating various sexual acts proved to be quite a turn on. More than a few times Harry found himself fantasizing about doing the things he read about to Cedric, or having Cedric do them to him.

The more he read, however, the more nervous Harry became. Now that he was really thinking about it, and seeing what sex entailed, he started to believe that Hermione was right: being that intimate with another person was definitely a big deal. He wasn’t sure that he was ready to let Cedric top him, not yet. But what if Cedric wasn’t willing to bottom? He was older, and bigger. In most of the pictures he saw, that was the man who topped.

Harry was so distracted by his thoughts that he almost walked right past Professor McGonagall asking him to stay a moment after Transfiguration. He nodded when she told him to be at the Quidditch field at nine o’clock that night, but he was barely paying attention to what she was saying.

At about eight-thirty, Harry left Gryffindor Tower for the meeting with Bagman and the other champions. Leaning against the wall across from the portrait of the Fat Lady, with a charming smile on his face, was Cedric.

“May I escort you down to the Quidditch field, Mr. Potter?” he asked playfully.

“Why thank you, Mr. Diggory,” Harry replied.

They headed downstairs together.

“So, I have something I want to show you,” Harry said, pulling the Guide out of his pocket. He handed it to Cedric, who looked at the cover quizzically.

“Er, thanks, but I’ve never really been into numbers,” Cedric remarked.

“Check the title page,” Harry told him.

Upon opening the book, Cedric gave a startled laugh of disbelief.

“Good lord, Harry” he said. “First that gay history book, and now this? Where do you get these –” Then it dawned on him. “Another helping hand from Hermione?”

“She’s just full of information,” Harry answered. “She found a whole bunch of books like this one. Did you know there’s even a gay wizards’ magazine? It’s called _Wands Out_.”

Cedric snorted.

“That’s a bit suggestive,” he commented.

“I think that’s the point,” Harry replied. “I haven’t decided if I want to subscribe yet. It’s probably the only way we’re going to see it. I doubt they have any issues available in the library.”

“Can you imagine if they did, though?” Cedric wondered. “The look on Madam Pince’s face when you tried to check them out?” He flipped through the pages of The Young Wizard’s Guide. “This stuff is, uh – pretty intense.”

“Yeah, it is,” Harry said hesitantly.

“So I guess you’ve been thinking about, um, **_it_** , huh?”

“Only a little,” Harry lied. Realizing Cedric deserved better than that, and that he could probably see through Harry’s fib anyway, he admitted, “Okay, a lot. I knew what I was getting into when I said we should, but I never thought—”

“Harry, it’s okay,” Cedric said immediately. “We don’t have to.”

“No, I’m not saying that either!” Harry insisted. “I’m – well – to be honest – what I’m not sure about is, the, uh…” Harry cursed his body for making him blush at that moment and said, “Bottoming.”

“Ah,” said Cedric.

“It’s not as though I don’t want to,” Harry said, adding, “someday. I don’t think – I mean, it’s a big thing.” Cedric smirked, forcing Harry to amend, “I don’t mean **_your_** thing! I mean, your thing is big, but I didn’t mean…” He sighed. “I hate you.”

“Harry, relax,” Cedric told him. “It’s okay if you don’t feel ready. I’m not disappointed or upset. Promise.” After a moment, he went on, “Besides, I, uh… I sort of figured you wouldn’t be ready for that.”

“Oh,” Harry said, a little frustrated that his hesitance had been expected. Confused, he asked, “Why did you say okay to doing it, then?”

“Well,” Cedric replied, a shy smile creeping across his face, “I sort of assumed that **_I_** would.”

Harry gawked at him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You aren’t nervous?” Harry asked, not sure what answer he’d prefer.

“A bit, yeah,” Cedric stated. “Nervous, and excited, and – happy.”

He smiled, and took Harry’s hand briefly to give it a good, affectionate squeeze. The boys beamed like the two lovestruck teenagers that they were for a minute before each releasing the other’s hand. As they stepped out through the double doors, Harry tried to ignore how suddenly tight his pants had become.

“So what do you think the third task is?” he wondered.

“No idea,” Cedric replied, slipping the Guide into his pocket. “Fleur said something about underground tunnels a few weeks ago. Thinks we’ve got to find buried treasure.”

“Fleur, huh?” Harry said impishly. “What else does Fleur think?”

“Shut up,” Cedric mumbled.

They headed down the stone front steps and across the Hogwarts lawn toward the Quidditch field. Harry had a lot on his mind, about the wild acts depicted in the Guide. The fact that Cedric was not only willing to bottom but had even been planning to since Harry brought it up made the younger boy’s lust burn with a renewed intensity. The whole time they were walking Harry felt the urge to tackle Cedric and take him right there in the grass.

At least until he saw what had been done to the Quidditch pitch. After that, all sexy thoughts were temporarily banished from his mind.

“Whu- what have they done?” Cedric cried, stopping momentarily in his tracks.

The atrocity to which Cedric was referring was the alteration that the Quidditch field had gone through since Harry last saw it. There were now a series of interconnecting walls, almost reaching knee-height, that stretched over the entire pitch. The walls didn’t seem to be made of stone or wood. They were green and leafy and –

“Hedges,” Harry realized as they got closer. “They’re growing hedges on the Quidditch field.”

“Hello there!”

The boys pulled their eyes away from the abomination that was their beloved field to see Ludo Bagman standing in the middle of the whole mess with Fleur and Krum. Harry and Cedric scrambled over the hedges to get to them as quickly as possible. Cedric, being the taller of the two, was much better at it than Harry, but was clearly moving more slowly than he needed to so he wouldn’t leave Harry behind. Fleur smiled at them both when they reached the center, convivially at Harry and enticingly at Cedric. Harry had to stop himself from pulling Cedric closer to him and scowling at the veela-descended girl. Much like Krum was scowling at Harry himself. The Bulgarian’s demeanor confused Harry. He usually got along with Krum pretty well. Harry didn’t have much time to dwell on this, as Bagman began telling them about the upcoming task.

Krum was the first among them to guess that what they were growing was a maze. So Fleur was half right; they would be searching for a treasure, the Triwizard Cup, only it would be in a hedge maze, and not in any underground tunnels. That was for the best, as far as Harry was concerned. After the incident beneath Hogwarts with the Sorcerer’s Stone and his trip into the Chamber of Secrets, Harry was growing tired of being underground.

The students and Bagman dispersed after that. Bagman was trailing Harry closely as he worked his way out of the maze with Cedric. Harry wondered if the man was going to try and offer him some advice again, and if he was brazen enough to do so in front of Cedric. Before Bagman had a chance to say anything, Krum tapped Harry’s shoulder.

“Could I haff a vord?”

“Uh, sure,” Harry said, a bit surprised.

“Vill you valk vith me?”

“Okay,” Harry replied.

Bagman seemed annoyed at the interruption.

“Shall I wait for you, then, Harry?”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Bagman,” Cedric said, cutting off Harry’s chance to respond. “I’ll be walking with him back up to the castle.”

The Department Head looked as if he wanted to argue but, seeing there was no way he could without appearing suspicious, gave a curt nod in defeat and went off on his own. Krum frowned at Cedric.

“Not you,” he said. “Only Potter.”

“Either he goes or I don’t,” Harry told him, his wariness starting to rise.

The Bulgarian champion frowned but made no further argument. Instead he turned and led the way out of the stadium. Harry and Cedric looked at each other, as if silently wondering between them what Krum was up to. Cedric shrugged and began to follow. Harry was close behind.

“Where are we going?” Cedric asked as they passed Hagrid’s cabin. They were heading toward a very secluded area of the grounds.

“Somevere private,” Krum grunted. “I don’t vant to be overheard.”

After they’d passed the enclosure where the enormous Beauxbatons horses were being kept, they came to a halt in a small clearing at the edge of the woods. Krum reeled on Harry, glowering more fiercely than Harry had ever seen him.

“I vant to know vot there is between you and Hermy-own-ninny,” he ordered.

Harry and Cedric looked at each other for a moment. Then, in unison, burst into fits of laughter.

“This is no joke!” Krum snarled.

“Really?” Cedric asked, gasping for air. “Because it’s bloody hilarious.”

“And vot is so funny?”

Harry glanced at Cedric. The older boy appeared uncertain.

“It’s up to you,” Cedric told him.

“ ** _Vot_** is up to him?” Krum demanded.

“Whether or not we tell you that Cedric and I are the ones who are together,” Harry elaborated, “not me and Hermione.”

Krum looked wary, shifting his stare between the two boys.

“You two are, ahh, vot is vord – poofs?” Krum said.

“We’re gay, if that’s what you mean,” Harry corrected crossly.

“My apologies,” Krum said sincerely. “I did not mean to offend.”

Krum sighed. His entire demeanor changed instantly. The gruff, angry Seeker melted away, leaving in his place a frustrated, distressed teenage boy.

“Hermy-own-ninny, she, ah, is broken up with me,” Krum declared. “I had thought that, maybe, after vot that Skeeter woman wrote…”

“Rita Skeeter made all that stuff up,” Harry said. “Hermione and I are friends, nothing more. Always have been. Even if I wasn’t, you know, she’s like a sister to me. I’d never.”

“I see.”

“Are you all right, mate?” Cedric asked.

Krum nodded.

“I haff an uncle who is homosexual,” he told them. “No one in my family speaks of it, but he is a good man. Vos alvays kind to me growing up. Buys me my first broomstick.”

Before either Harry or Cedric could respond to this statement, the trio of champions was interrupted by a man stumbling out of the forest. All three immediately had their wands out, lit, and pointed at the shaggy figure. Cedric was the first to recognize him.

“Mr. Crouch,” he said.

The man appeared completely mad, both in appearance and demeanor. He seemed to be muttering instructions to a tree.

“He vos a judge, vosn’t he?” Krum recalled, staring nervously at the babbling man. “He is vith your Ministry?”

“He was,” Cedric answered. “I’m not sure who he is right now.”

“You think he’s bewitched?” said Harry.

“Don’t know,” Cedric admitted.

He took a cautious step toward Crouch.

“Careful,” Harry whispered.

“Mr. Crouch?” Cedric said warily. “Do you know who I am? We’ve met a few times before. My name is Cedric Diggory. You work with my father, at the Ministry of Magic. Mr. Crouch, can you understand me?”

Without warning, Mr. Crouch crumpled to the ground, falling hard on his knees. The champions all rushed forward. Cedric reached him first.

“Mr. Crouch!” Cedric exclaimed.

“Vot is the matter vith him?”

“Cedric, be careful!” Harry warned.

“Mr. Crouch, can you hear me?” Cedric asked, kneeling beside the fallen man.

“DUMBLEDORE!”

Crouch latched onto the robes of the nearest boy, that being Cedric. He pulled Cedric to him. His voice was urgent, pleading, but his eyes were still vacant, staring at the canopy of trees above them.

“I need … see … Dumbledore …”

“All right,” Cedric said soothingly. “All right, we’ll take you to him. Can you – can you stand up, can you walk?”

“I’ve done … stupid … thing …” was Crouch’s response. “Must … tell … Dumbledore …”

“What do we do?” Harry asked.

Cedric gnawed at his lower lip. He looked at Krum, and at Harry, then back at Crouch. He looked nervous, which made Harry even more nervous.

“Harry,” he said. “Can you go up to the school and find Professor Dumbledore?”

“Nu-uh,” said Harry. “I’m not leaving you here with him.”

“Krum can’t go, he doesn’t know where Dumbledore’s office is,” Cedric reasoned. “I know Dumbledore will listen to you, Harry. I need you to do this. Please.”

Harry searched Cedric’s face. He was worried, that was obvious, as was the fact that he truly needed Harry’s help. Harry wasn’t sure why, but this, the idea of Cedric needing **_his_** help, surprised him. Harry always thought of Cedric as the capable one, the dependable one. It was interesting to learn that Cedric felt he could depend on him. Without any further consideration, Harry nodded.

“Thank you,” Cedric said. “The password is ‘Cockroach Cluster’.”

“Ew. Really?”

Cedric only smiled in response.

They held each other’s gaze for a moment before Harry broke it. He turned toward the castle and ran, still able to dimly hear Crouch’s confused ranting long after he’d passed the Beauxbatons carriage. Harry ran faster than he ever had from Dudley and his gang. He hurtled up the marble staircase and the one after that that so rapidly it felt almost like he was flying. The whole time his mind was racing faster than his body. No one had seen Crouch in months. How had he turned up in the dead of night at the edge of the Forbidden Forest? And was leaving him alone with Krum and, more importantly, Cedric a good idea? Sweat was pouring down Harry’s face and his lungs were seizing but still he ran. He skidded to a halt in front of the stone gargoyle that marked the entrance to Dumbledore’s office.

“Cockroach – Cluster,” he gasped, clutching his aching chest.

The gargoyle leapt out of the way, allowing Harry access to the opening that had appeared in the wall. Inside was the spiral staircase leading to the headmaster’s office. Harry sat on one of the stairs, trying to catch his breath, as the staircase rose upward. In just a few seconds Harry found himself in front of the polished oak door. He was about to knock when the door opened all on its own. Dumbledore stood there, looking at him curiously.

“Harry,” the headmaster greeted warmly. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s Mr. Crouch!” Harry explained. “He’s outside, in the forest, he kept saying he needed to speak with you!” He swallowed. “Professor, he seems – he’s behaving a bit… deranged.”

Dumbledore stared Harry for a moment.

“I suppose we’d better hurry then,” he said.

And hurry they did. Dumbledore moved with swiftness that Harry never would’ve expected from someone his age. He was almost going faster than Harry, his speed contrary to his smooth, graceful strides. Harry explained on the way, about Crouch, and his muttering madness.

“—and then Cedric sent me to come and get you,” Harry wrapped up. “He gave me the password to your office.”

“He gave you my password?”

Harry stumbled when he heard Dumbledore ask this. His tone was stern. Had Harry just gotten Cedric into some sort of trouble?

“Yes, sir,” Harry reluctantly answered. “He said we needed to find you, and that – that he was certain you would listen to me.”

“Well, he was right about that,” said Dumbledore.

They hurried passed the Beauxbatons paddock, and soon were approaching the clearing Harry had left Cedric and Krum in. He’d expected to be able to hear Crouch’s incoherent jabbering from this distance, and was surprised that he couldn’t.

“Cedric?” Harry shouted.

There was no answer. Only the night sounds of the forest. But there was no way that they couldn’t have heard him, and definitely no way Cedric wouldn’t respond to him. Unless something happened… At last they reached the clearing only to find it empty.

“They were here,” Harry said firmly. “I **_know_** they were here.”

“ _Lumos_ ,” Dumbledore muttered, lighting the tip of his wand.

The beam darted over the forest, casting tall and ugly shadows. The trees and bushes looked cold and gray in the dim light. Harry could feel himself beginning to panic. Then the beam happened to pass over a pair of feet. It traveled further, revealing an entire body. Cedric’s body. Lying sprawled on the forest floor. Harry nearly threw up at the sight of it.

 _Oh my God, he’s dead,_ sprang into his mind, and echoed over and over again. _He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead…_

Harry rushed forward, falling at Cedric’s side. He grabbed the front of the boy’s shirt. Cedric couldn’t be dead. There was no way. He’d only just been talking to Harry, just smiling at him. Harry was only staring into his beautiful gray eyes a few minutes ago, he could not be dead!

“Stunned,” Harry heard Dumbledore mutter.

He tore his gaze from Cedric to see Dumbledore kneeling beside Viktor Krum, who Harry now noticed was lying only a few feet away. Dumbledore was looking around the darkened forest.

Stunned. Stunned was good. Stunned meant not dead. Stunned meant alive. Harry’s mind was reeling so furiously that it didn’t even faze him when Dumbledore shot something silver and translucent out of the tip of his wand that flew toward Hagrid’s cabin. He then turned his wand on Cedric and said, “ _Rennervate_.”

Cedric’s eyes flew open.

“Where’s Harry?” were the first words out of his mouth.

“I’m here,” Harry told him, so overwhelmed with relief that he nearly kissed him. “What happened?”

“Ve vere attacked!” Krum, also awake now, bellowed. “By that crazy old man!”

“Cedric?” Dumbledore asked. “Is this true?”

“Maybe,” Cedric mumbled, clutching his head as he struggled to sit up. “Maybe. It’s possible. I didn’t see who attacked us. It happened so fast. We heard something moving in the forest and then suddenly – I’m sorry, I just don’t know.”

“It’s all right,” Harry assured him.

He took Cedric’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Cedric smiled gratefully, though a little weakly, still looking quite pale. Harry responded with a feeble smile of his own. After a few seconds he realized that the headmaster was staring at them. Harry quickly released and looked away.

“It vas that man!” Krum insisted. “It had to be! He is insane!”

Any further accusations were interrupted by the thunderous arrival of Hagrid. The rest of Harry’s time in that dark forest clearing went by in a flash. Moody appeared, claiming to have seen them rushing across the grounds from his office window. Soon Karkaroff arrived as well. With all the people there and the finger-pointing that was going on it reminded Harry of the night he was selected as the fourth Triwizard champion. After Hagrid assaulted Karkaroff for insulting Dumbledore, it seemed the headmaster felt his students had seen enough.

“Hagrid, please escort Harry back up to the castle,” he ordered sharply.

“I can do it, Professor,” Cedric chimed in. “I’d like to. I mean, if that’s all right with you, sir.”

Dumbledore looked around at Cedric, almost as if he was surprised Cedric had the strength, or possibly the courage, to make such a suggestion. He studied the Hufflepuff boy for a moment, and then turned his discerning stare on Harry. Harry wanted to look away again but he held the man’s gaze.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said finally. “I thought you might. Very well, Diggory. But straight up to Gryffindor Tower. Any detours you may have had in mind, to the Owlery, for example, can wait until the morning. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Cedric answered for them.

He then grabbed Harry by the elbow and pulled him away before another word could be exchanged. Harry wanted to ask Dumbledore how he knew Harry was planning on going directly to the Owlery to send a letter to Sirius relaying the evening’s events, but he didn’t. He much preferred to let Cedric drag him away, especially after Cedric slid his palm into Harry’s. Cedric’s hand was shaking the tiniest bit. Harry didn’t say anything, simply squeezing Cedric’s hand comfortingly. He regretted having to release the older boy’s hand when they were in view of the castle, but continued walking closer to him than might’ve been advisable. After the night they’d had, he didn’t care much.

It was nearly eleven o’clock by the time they reached the Fat Lady’s portrait. Harry gave the password and the painting swung open, revealing the hole leading into the Gryffindor common room. Harry turned to Cedric. He didn’t want to let him out of his sight. Not yet.

“D’you want to come in?” Harry asked.

Cedric chewed his lip. He was still a little pale. He looked down the corridor, down the way he usually went to get back to his dormitory. Then he looked at Harry. He nodded. Harry went through the portrait hole first, followed, for the first time ever, by his boyfriend.

There were a handful of people still up scattered about the common room. In their usual corner by the window, sitting as far as they could from each other while remaining at the same table, were Ron and Hermione. They looked up when the two champions approached.

“Cedric?” Hermione said. “What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, you know this is the Gryffindor common room,” Ron informed him. “Wait. This **_is_** the Gryffindor common room, right?” He looked around suspiciously. “This isn’t one of those dreams where suddenly I’m going to be naked, is it?”

“Why would Harry and I be in one of those dreams?” Cedric asked without missing a beat.

Ron’s ears turned pink.

“Really, though, what’s going on?” asked Hermione.

So the boys proceeded to fill them in.

The next couple of hours were devoted to hypothesizing what might’ve happened at the edge of the forest that night. Cedric told them about the rambling Harry had missed by going to retrieve Dumbledore, how Crouch had mentioned Bertha and his son and the Dark Lord getting stronger. Harry was almost glad he wasn’t there to hear that part. Cedric claimed that he and Krum were attacked by someone coming out of the woods. The man (for Cedric was certain it was not a woman) had Stunned Krum first and then, before Cedric had time to react, Stunned him as well. Next thing he knew, Harry was hovering over him, and Crouch and his attacker were gone.

“It’s my fault,” Harry grumbled after Cedric was finished telling his part.

“How do you figure?” Ron challenged.

“Well, this is probably connected to whatever reason my name was entered in the tournament,” Harry rationalized. “And now we know it has something to do with Voldemort.” Cedric was the only one who didn’t wince at the sound of the name, though even he didn’t seem happy about hearing it. Harry looked at him. “You could’ve been killed. And it would’ve been my fault.”

“It would not have been,” Cedric affirmed.

“He’s right, Harry,” Hermione agreed. “You can’t beat yourself up about this. Neither of you can,” she added, turning pointedly to Cedric. “You both did everything you could to help Mr. Crouch tonight.”

“Yeah,” Cedric said, unconvinced. He looked at his watch. “Oh, okay. It is officially too late for any of us to be up.”

“Aww, but I wanna keep sleuthing!” Ron whined.

“We have double Potions tomorrow,” Hermione pointed out, “do you really want to be falling asleep during that?”

“That’s like asking if I want to light my own head on fire,” Ron retorted.

“I’ll walk you out,” Harry said to Cedric.

After saying goodnight to Ron and Hermione, the boys stood outside the Gryffindor dormitory, the Fat Lady pretending to be asleep in her portrait. (Harry once confronted her about how much she’d seen of him and Cedric late at night. She swore that, as much as she loved gossip, it wasn’t her place to reveal the most personal details of students’ lives to others, especially ones such as this, and that his secret was safe with her.) Harry stared up at Cedric. He couldn’t stop picturing the older boy sprawled on the dark forest floor.

“Are you all right?” Cedric asked, concerned.

“You have no idea what it was like,” he said. “To see you lying there like that.”

“I saw you fall of your broom, remember?” Cedric replied. “I think I can imagine what it’s like.”

“I thought you were dead!”

“But I’m fine,” Cedric assured him, taking Harry by the shoulders. “I’m very tough.”

Harry nodded.

“You know, I’ve always been aware of how much older you are than me,” he said.

“Does it bother you?” Cedric asked nervously.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Harry said. “I’ve always felt being the younger one in this relationship. I’ve always thought of you as older, as a protector, never someone to be protected. And—and then seeing you, lying there like that, I thought you were dead. It sort of – it made me realize that you aren’t invincible or invulnerable. That maybe you need protecting as well.”

“We all do sometimes, Harry,” Cedric replied.

“I know,” said Harry. “I know that. And I want to do that for you. Be that person for you. I want to be the one to protect you.”

“Harry…”

Cedric pulled the younger boy into his arms and held him tightly. Harry hugged back just as tight.

“I’ll never let anything hurt you again,” Harry told him.

“I know you won’t,” said Cedric.

Harry pressed his face into Cedric’s chest, and Cedric rested his chin on top of the smaller boy’s head. Harry reflected on the trepidation he’d been feeling about advancing their sexual relationship. After nearly losing Cedric it felt rather stupid. He knew what he wanted. And he wasn’t afraid anymore. Coming to a decision, Harry pulled back a little to look up at his boyfriend.

“This whole thing has gotten me thinking,” he said. “You know, we believe we’ve got all the time in the world, but with everything that’s going on, who’s to say? It’s like back when the Chamber of Secrets was opened two years ago. I remember how all the older kids were going at it left and right because they didn’t want to die as virgins.”

“I know,” said Cedric. “That was the reason Cho gave me that we should do it.”

“Well, I didn’t really understand that compulsion until now. Someone may have entered me in this tournament to kill me, and I don’t want to die without having been with you. Completely. I love you.”

“I love you too, Harry,” Cedric replied, smiling. “Okay. So in a few days—”

“No, that’s too long,” Harry immediately interrupted. “You’re not getting it: I almost lost you already. This needs to happen, like, now.”

“Now?” Cedric blinked. “Oh. Okay. Wow. Wow, that’s… Okay.”

“Is that too soon for you?”

“I cannot begin to tell you how **_not_** too soon that is,” Cedric assured him. “It’s a bit short notice. Plus there’s the small matter of we’ve been up rather late and I was Stunned earlier this evening. Exhaustion is not sexy.”

“Ah,” said Harry. “Tomorrow then? Saturday tomorrow, not Friday tomorrow. I think we’ll both be too tired for Friday.”

“Tomorrow. Okay. Wow.”

“You’re been saying ‘wow’ a lot,” Harry observed.

“I think this is a ‘wow’ kind of situation, Harry, don’t you?” Cedric said.

“So, tomorrow night?” Harry smiled. “Room of Requirement?”

“Actually,” said Cedric, “I was thinking we might try somewhere a bit more special.” He bit his lip for a second and then smiled slyly as he asked, “How would you like to see my room?”

“Your room?” Harry repeated. “You know, for a prefect, you sure do promote a lot of rule breaking.”

“There’s no rule saying I can’t have you in my room,” Cedric reasoned. “Maybe for what we have in mind, but I’m willing to bend the rules a little if you are.”

“Isn’t it kinda risky, though?”

“Well, you’re kind of a risk taker, Potter,” Cedric countered. “I’ll make sure it’s safe, though. What do you say?”

Sneaking into the Hufflepuff dormitory to lose his virginity to the competing male Hogwarts champion. It certainly was a risk. Probably the biggest one they’d ever taken, and that included kissing in the dark at Fred and George’s New Year’s party. At least then if they’d been caught, even with all the Rita Skeeter scrutiny Harry seemed to be under right now, they only would’ve been outed. Fornication between students probably also meant some sort of punishment. If they were caught.

Harry thought about it.

In the end, there was only one answer he could give.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


They immediately hatched a plan for how to sneak Harry into the Hufflepuff Dormitory. Actually, it wasn’t so much a plan as it was Cedric telling Harry to follow him in using his Invisibility Cloak. Not that complicated, but the simple route was sometimes the best.

Harry barely slept after everything that’d happened, and everything that was now going to happen. He rose early to send an owl to Sirius describing the previous night’s events. Ron grudgingly accompanied him. In the Owlery they ran into Fred and George arguing about a letter they were sending and blackmail. Although Ron was still too groggy to comprehend much, Harry was mostly awake.

“You’re blackmailing someone?” Harry asked as they came to the top of the stairs. The twins froze for a second, but recovered quickly.

“Never you mind, Harry,” George said dolefully. “Never you mind.”

“Oy, Harry,” said Fred with a smirk, “was that Diggory I saw in the Gryffindor common room last night?”

“Might’ve been,” Harry replied. He wasn’t entirely willing to let the blackmail subject drop, but he also wasn’t equipped to attempt going toe-to-toe with Fred and George Weasley, the rhetoric masters.

“Good one, mate,” Fred told him, winking.

The twins released their owl and left Harry and Ron to their own devices. It wasn’t until Harry had sent his owl and they were halfway back down the stairs that Ron asked, “Was Fred and George jus’ back there?”

“Yes, Ron,” said Harry.

Ron nodded sleepily in response, and did not pursue the subject any further.

Throughout most of the day, Harry felt like he was drifting. During History of Magic he kept falling into vivid daydreams about what was coming the following night. He wondered what Cedric’s room would look like. It was weird to think that it was underground. Harry’d been inside the Slytherin dormitory, which was also below the castle, but theirs was dank and uninviting. The Hufflepuff dormitory couldn’t possibly have the same feel to it.

More than that, however, he wondered what being with Cedric would be like. Everything they’d done so far was pretty spectacular, so Harry couldn’t imagine it getting better. But it must be for people to be so keen on it. Harry’s heart raced and his stomach fluttered as he thought about being with Cedric, being inside him. It was maddening, having to wait. How did Cedric ever think Harry could wait a week or two when he hardly could another day?

At Hermione’s suggestion they checked in with Professor Moody during their break before Charms. Unfortunately, he had no news for them; his search for whomever or whatever attacked Cedric and Viktor turned up nothing.

“You can’t beat yourself up about it, Potter,” Moody told him.

“I said that!” Hermione blurted excitedly. “I said that very thing to him last night!”

“Smart girl,” Moody praised. Hermione smiled, delighted. “She’s absolutely right. You boys did a pretty decent job for students.”

“It wasn’t good enough to prevent Cedric from being attacked,” Harry mumbled, adding hastily, “and Krum.”

Moody raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you’ll just have to look out for each other, that’s all,” Moody said. Then, pensively, “That’s what you’ll do. You’ll look out for each other.”

 _You’re right about that,_ Harry thought grimly.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


Harry and Cedric met in the entrance hall at seven o’clock on Saturday night. It reminded Harry of their first date, after the first task of the tournament. Only he wasn’t late this time. However, like then, Cedric was already there waiting for him. He smiled when he saw Harry descending the marble staircase.

“Hi Harry,” he said. “Are you ready?”

Harry took a deep breath.

“As I’ll ever be,” he replied honestly.

Still smiling, Cedric went through the door on next to the staircase with Harry following close behind.

“So, how was your day?” Cedric asked casually.

“I got a letter from Padfoot,” Harry informed him, having long since explained his godfather’s old Marauder nickname.

“Oh? What did he have to say?”

“The usual,” Harry sighed. “Yelling at me for not being more careful, reminding me that someone’s probably trying to kill me, insisting that I keep my head down, etcetera. He had a go at you, too. Said you shouldn’t have let me go up to the castle on my own. Completely ignoring the fact that you were the one who was attacked.”

“He’s right though,” Cedric said. “I wasn’t thinking, I panicked. I should’ve gone with you, or gone in your place.”

“If you’d gone in my place, then **_I_** would’ve been the one who was attacked. And they might not’ve left **_me_** alive,” Harry argued. “We’re going around in circles here with this blame game. Let’s stop feeling guilty and just be grateful we’re both alive.”

“You’re absolutely right,” said Cedric.

“It wasn’t all bad, though,” Harry added. “He said that you and I are to stick close to each other, and watch out for each other more carefully from now on.”

Cedric took Harry’s hand.

“Sounds good to me.”

They passed the entrance to the kitchens and kept right on going. After a while they came to a bend in the corridor. There they found a stack of barrels.

“Is this it?” Harry asked. “What's the password?”

“Ah," grinned Cedric. "That's the clever bit.”

He picked a barrel, seemingly at random, and knock on it in a jaunty rhythm. The lid immediately swung open.

“...That's it?” said Harry.

“That's it,” Cedric replied. “You have to do it properly but, yeah, basically. If you do it wrong, like if you pick the wrong barrel or knock incorrectly, you get doused in vinegar and barred from entry.”

“Whoa! That's a bit extreme,” Harry observed. “I thought Hufflepuffs were, you know, all about kindness and friendship.”

“Yeah, but we're also vicious if provoked," Cedric said. “Now hurry up and put on your Cloak.”

Harry complied as Cedric led the way, crawling in through the now-open barrel.

The Hufflepuff common room was round and earthy and surprisingly cheery, considering it was underground. There were windows up by the low ceiling looking out over the sweeping Hogwarts lawn. There were two perfectly round doors on either side of the honey-colored, ornately-carved wooden mantelpiece.

Looking back surreptitiously, and then shaking his head, no doubt realizing that there was no way he could tell whether Harry was still following him or not, Cedric went through the door to the fireplace's right. Harry followed closely behind him. Behind the door was a room with seven tunnel openings all leading in different directions. Cedric ducked into one of them leading slowly downward. It might've felt eerie if not for the bright copper lamps. Their warm glow overpowered the tomb-like feeling that the tunnel inspired, leaving Harry much at ease. In a short while, they reached another round door. Cedric pushed it inward and gestured inside.

“This,” Cedric said, “is my room.”

Harry yanked off his Invisibility Cloak and entered, looking around at Cedric’s room. It was mostly similar to Harry's own, same five beds with the same, though differently colored, hangings, except the Hufflepuff’s was room a little bigger. This difference allowed for each boy to have a full desk rather than a nightstand. Another major variation was the windows. They were circular and clearly enchanted. Not only did they portray an outdoor scene that was impossible to see so far below ground, but each window had a completely different setting. One was of a mountain peak in a snowstorm. Another was of a sunny tropical island. The one by the bed that Cedric sat down on displayed a vast field with tall, green grass waving in the breeze under a clear blue sky.

“It’s great,” Harry told him. “I always imagined living underground being more claustrophobic. But this… this is nice.” He looked around, noticing a lack of clutter in the room. “I’m surprised it’s so tidy, our room’s usually a mess.”

“It’s our hard-working Hufflepuff nature,” Cedric replied. “Plus Professor Sprout runs a tight ship, with room inspections and such. For a woman who’s never caught without a patch of dirt on her she sure values cleanliness.”

“Yeah, you think you know someone,” Harry opined. “Where are your roommates?”

“Gone,” said Cedric. “I asked them to clear out until curfew.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Nothing,” Cedric replied. “I just said I needed the room. I think they’re under the impression that I’m going to use it to deflower Cho. That is, if they don’t believe I have already.”

“They’re not too far off,” Harry pointed out. “They think you’re with Cho?”

“Based solely on the fact that we spend time together and she’s a girl, yes,” Cedric said, rolling his eyes. “People see what they want to see, you know? Story of my life.”

“And mine,” Harry added.

“At least we have each other,” Cedric grinned, ruffling the younger boy’s hair.

Harry smiled.

“Curfew for you is nine o’clock, right?” he verified. “You’re sure none of your roommates will come back before that?”

“Pretty sure,” Cedric answered hesitantly. He gnawed his lip for a second. “I think I’ll lock the door. Just to be safe. You make yourself comfortable. Feel free to have a poke around my things. With a curiosity like yours, I’m sure you’re dying to.”

Feigning insult, Harry stuck out his tongue at him. Cedric laughed.

Not one to turn down free reign to riffle through his boyfriend’s belongings, Harry sat at Cedric’s desk and did exactly that. The desk was quite tidy, which was no less than Harry would’ve expected of him. The textbooks were neatly stacked in one corner. The quills and parchment and ink bottles in the drawers were all nicely arranged. Harry envied his boyfriend’s organizational skills. His own possessions were strewn all about his portion of the fourth year Gryffindor boys’ dormitory.

There was an item in the bottom left drawer that piqued Harry’s interest. A small, rectangular box, about half the size of an ordinary shoebox. It was a pale shade of green. He pulled it out.

“Cedric?” Harry called, looking over the item in his hands. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?” Cedric asked as he returned from the door. He froze when he saw what Harry was holding. “That?” he squeaked. “That’s nothing.”

“Yeah, because when your voice goes all high like that it means you’re telling the truth,” Harry scoffed.

He pulled the lid off before Cedric could stop him. Inside it was –

Harry.

Quite literally. Staring up at Harry from inside the box was a picture of himself, the one featured in the _Daily Prophet_ last November. The accompanying article was there as well. There were also the _Witch Weekly_ article about his “secret heartache”, the packaging from the Bertie Bott’s Harry had given Cedric for Christmas, a larger version of the picture of them at the Yule Ball that Harry kept in his locket, and various notes and cards Harry’d given him. They were all there, though Harry saw that the note he’d sent Cedric the night they broke up was conspicuously absent. Towards the bottom of the pile there was another article from the _Prophet_ , one Harry hadn’t ever seen before. It wasn’t very long. The title read: “BOY-WHO-LIVED REJOINS WIZARDING WORLD.”

“What’s this?” Harry asked, holding it up.

Cedric, who was standing over him biting his lip nervously, squinted at the clipping.

“That,” he said, “is an article they had in the paper the year you started at Hogwarts. My mum sent it to me. She thought I should, um, try to make friends with you. Because she figured you wouldn’t have very many here, growing up with Muggles and all.”

“That’s very nice of her,” Harry said. It reminded him of the way Mrs. Weasley had doted on him when she realized who he was.

“She’s a very nice lady,” Cedric replied.

“Clearly you didn’t, though,” Harry remarked. “How come?”

“I was shy,” Cedric admitted. “You were two years below me and in a different house and back then I bought into the hype about you being the famous Harry Potter. A lot of people did. No one really knew how to approach you.”

“Yeah, well, people see what they want to see, right?” Harry quipped.

“I wanted to. Talk to you, that is,” Cedric insisted. “But, well… like I said, I was shy.”

“We’re friends now,” Harry said. “That’s all that matters.” He stared at the article. “You kept this? All these years? And all of these things…?”

Cedric shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed having been caught with a small collection of Harry memorabilia.

Harry never felt the need for proof of how Cedric felt for him. He showed it every day, in little ways; the things Cedric said or the way he looked at Harry. Yet right here, in Harry’s hands, was concrete evidence that Cedric loved him. It was one thing to know it, to believe it. It was another to actually see it. And it made Harry all the more certain that he was ready.

Oh yes, he was ready.

Harry got out of the chair and leaned up to kiss Cedric, wrapping his arms around the older boy’s neck. Cedric’s hands wandered up Harry’s back. Harry took a few steps backward, toward the bed, pulling Cedric along with him. They tumbled onto the mattress and kicked off their shoes, never breaking their lip lock. They made quick work of their clothing, eager as they were, wrenching off garments and tossing them in a pile on the floor.

“Okay, stop. Stop!” Harry cried out.

Cedric stopped abruptly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked anxiously. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry assured him, heart pounding. “Too intense. I don’t want to end up doing something that’ll ruin our plans.”

“Right, right,” Cedric grunted.

He rolled off of Harry to lie at the boy’s left side. Cedric stroked Harry’s arm as Harry struggled to reign in his hormones.

“So how do we…” Harry trailed off.

“Do this?” Cedric supplied.

“Yeah,” Harry said sheepishly. “I understand the basic mechanics, but I’m not sure how we accomplish it.”

“There was something in the Guide,” Cedric said. “Hang on.”

He climbed over Harry and off the bed, where he began searching through the desk drawers. Harry put his arms behind his head and watched, smiling. It was hard not to while Cedric was standing there naked and Harry was able to think, _He’s all mine_.

“Aha!” Cedric cried triumphantly, holding up The Young Wizard’s Guide to Gay Sex.

He sat at the edge of the bed. Harry moved closer to read over his shoulder. Cedric flipped through it, past now-familiar moving images that made Harry all the more eager to keep going. He halted when he came to a certain page.

“Here we go,” he said. “It says there’s a particular spell you can cast on your, uh, yourself, you know, down there, when you’re going to bottom. It’ll sort of loosen me up and reduce any, er, pain or discomfort I may experience.”

“‘Pain or discomfort?’” Harry reiterated. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“It’s part of the deal, Harry,” Cedric asserted. “And I’m okay with it. I want this.” He turned and kissed Harry. “I’m pretty sure you want it, too,” he murmured into the boy’s lips.

“What gave me away?” Harry smirked. “All right, if you’re sure you’re okay.”

“Promise,” Cedric said, resting his forehead against Harry’s. “Now, let me try this.”

He bent over and pulled his wand out of their pile of discarded clothing while Harry took off his glasses and put them on Cedric’s desk. After studying the Guide briefly, Cedric pointed his wand underneath him.

“ _Concedo coire familiaritas_ ,” he said. His eyes widened a fraction. “Huh.”

“You okay?” Harry asked fearfully,

“Yeah, yeah,” Cedric assured him, placing his wand on the desk next to Harry’s glasses. “It feels… weird. Like I’m, I dunno, empty, or something.” He grinned cheekily at Harry. “Are you ready?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Harry replied.

Cedric laughed.

When they were finished, not too much later, Harry fell back into the sheets beside Cedric, both boys' chests heaving to catch their breath. Cedric leaned over and kissed his boyfriend, a kiss fueled more by love now than lust.

“Thank you,” Cedric whispered, taking Harry in his arms.

“Thank **_you_** ,” Harry said back. “How do you feel? You know, down there?”

“Empty again,” Cedric sighed. “But okay. The spell hasn’t worn off yet. I guess we’ll see what happens when it does. How do **_you_** feel?”

“Awesome,” Harry laughed. “It was incredible. I can’t wait to have another go.”

“Well,” said Cedric, “unfortunately that won’t be tonight, as I am now exhausted, plus it’s,” he checked his watch, “oh shit, ten to nine.”

“Shit!” Harry cried, sitting bolt upright. “Shit!”

He scrambled out of bed and began yanking on his clothes. Cedric did the same. They sorted through the pile, passing each other any items they’d mistakenly picked up for themselves. Despite their sense of urgency, Harry found himself giggling a bit. Soon Cedric was, too. Ron was right: if you couldn’t laugh about sex, you shouldn’t be having it.

“Whoa,” Harry said suddenly, bracing himself against the desk chair. “My legs are shaking. Do you think that’s, like, normal?”

“I don’t know,” Cedric said. “There wasn’t anything in the Guide about it.” He eyed Harry nervously as he handed him his Invisibility Cloak. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

Harry threw the Cloak over himself. He followed Cedric out, taking one last look around the room as they went. It didn’t look any different than when he’d entered, except for the slightly messy bed.

That seemed strange to Harry. The world was completely the same. It was funny to think that there’d been a time, less than a year ago, when Harry thought being gay was the end of everything. And now – now he’d just made love to another boy for the first time and the world kept on spinning. Madness. As they made their way back up the tunnel to the Hufflepuff common room, Harry considered the legions of horny Hogwarts students who’d lost their virginities in that very castle. Those who, literally, came before him. Now he was a member of their ranks. Did wonders never cease?

It was more difficult getting out of the Hufflepuff dormitory than it had been getting in. Now that it was nearly curfew there were more students crammed into the common room. Harry had to be extra careful not to bump into anyone by accident. This was made even more difficult by the fact that his legs were still shaking. Somehow he managed. A group of boys on the far side of the room cheered when they saw Cedric; his roommates, Harry guessed. Cedric waved and kept walking right out the door. Outside, Harry pulled off the Cloak.

“How are your legs?” Cedric asked.

“Not entirely unwobbly,” Harry admitted.

“Maybe I should walk you back to your room. Just in case.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Harry told him.

“Well, maybe I want to,” Cedric argued. “Did you ever think about that?”

“Of course not,” Harry responded, starting slowly down the corridor with Cedric close at his side, “because I am deeply selfish and rarely consider your feelings. If ever.”

“I figured as much,” Cedric said. “Using me for my body, eh? Gonna chuck me now that you’ve gotten me in the sack?”

“Obviously,” said Harry. “What use do I have for you now?”

“More sex?” Cedric proposed.

“Ooh, good point,” Harry said. “All right, I guess I’ll keep you around then.”

“Promise?” Cedric asked as they walked up the stairs to the entrance hall.

“You know I do.”

  



	26. One Day More

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX**

“One Day More”

  


To Harry’s mild chagrin, Ron and Hermione were waiting for him at their usual table in the Gryffindor common room when Cedric left him after their night together. He should’ve realized they would both be up; it was only a bit past nine, after all. He’d been so blissed-out that his friends’ whereabouts hadn’t even crossed his mind. Harry made his way through the busy common room to meet them. They watched him expectantly and he smiled, a bit self-conscious, hoping his delight in the evening’s events wasn’t too obvious. He sat, grateful to be off his still-shaky legs.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” they replied in unison.

An awkward quiet fell over the three of them. They all stared around at each other, none of them sure what to say first. Finally, Ron snapped.

“So did you guys do it?” Ron blurted.

“Ron!” Hermione cried. “What did we just get finished talking about? How we were going to wait, give Harry time to bring it up on his own?”

“He took too long!” Ron argued. “It’s been, like, twenty minutes!”

“It’s been twenty **_seconds_** ,” Hermione corrected him. “Merlin, do you have no self-control at all?”

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” he countered.

They glared at each other unflinchingly as they both slowly went red. Harry watched their staring contest, afraid to act. They looked as if any moment they might begin ripping each other to shreds, or else ripping each other’s clothes off. It was so hard to tell with them anymore. After a minute Harry decided he had no choice but to say something, preferably something to change the subject.

“Umm, hi?” he said.

Hermione was the first to break their stare. Her face turned in Harry’s direction but her eyes were still cast pointedly downward. Ron’s fixed on the Transfiguration text in front of him.

“Sorry,” Hermione mumbled. She cleared her throat and asked, as if nothing had just happened, “How was – mm, you know. Cedric.”

Harry couldn’t help grinning smugly.

“It was, uhhhh… good,” he said evasively.

“Oh, c’mon!” Ron said indignantly. “You’ve got to give us more than that!”

So Harry did. He told them about the Hufflepuff dormitory, which Hermione found fascinating. She’d, of course, read about it in Hogwarts: A History, but had never heard a first-hand account of it before. They both let out a very embarrassing “awww” when he told them about Cedric’s box of Harry memorabilia. He glossed over most of the details about the actual sex, and used only vague terms and euphemisms for what he did say. When he was finished, Ron slapped him on the shoulder.

“Well done, mate!” he said.

“I’m so happy for you, Harry,” Hermione told him.

“Thanks, guys,” Harry said. His expression became more sober as he continued, “Really, I mean it. Thank you. This –” He swallowed a tiny lump that was forming in his throat. “I was so afraid when I first started having these feelings. I was worried you guys wouldn’t accept me this way.”

“Don’t be silly, Harry,” said Hermione.

“Yeah, you’re our best friend,” Ron insisted. “We’d love you no matter how weird you were.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, cracking a smile. “I know that now. But it could’ve turned out differently. Anyway, thank you, for everything.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked at each other, all smiling now. Hermione’s eyes were slightly teary. Without warning, she jumped out of her chair and rushed to hug Harry. Harry looked quizzically at Ron. Ron shrugged.

“Ahhh, what the hell,” he said.

Then he, too, came over to hug Harry. Rather than protest this odd display of affection, Harry sank into it, hugging them both back just as affectionately. They no doubt attracted a fair amount of attention for their emotional display, but Harry didn’t care. It felt nice, being so lovingly embraced by the two people who’d meant so much to him for so long.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


Preparation for the third task began the very next day. Harry, Ron, and Hermione holed up in the library researching useful spells and jinxes. In the afternoon, Cedric joined them at Harry’s invitation. He received a knowing smirk from both Ron and Hermione when he sat their table, causing him to blush and stammer as he told them he brought some fifth and sixth year spellbooks to look through. This awkwardness did not last long, however. By the time they left that evening the four of them had become a cohesive unit, with Cedric and Hermione organizing their efforts and delegating who read what. The two of them seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement that preparing Harry for the task was of the utmost importance. They spent far more time focusing on spells Harry needed help with than Cedric. When Harry would suggest they focus on him for a change, Cedric would dismiss the notion, insisting that their review was helping him too. They were relentless. They didn’t even let him take a break the day Harry had a vision of Lord Voldemort during Divination. If anything it spurred them on. It would’ve been incredibly annoying if it wasn’t rather sweet, not to mention dead helpful.

They used the Room of Requirement for practical application of spells. This worked exceptionally well, since the room adapted itself to their needs. For example, when they worked on the Stunning Spell, the floor became cushiony to soften the fall for whichever one of them was getting Stunned (usually Ron).

Weeks went by, and Harry fell into a repetitive pattern of class during the day and training at night. It wasn’t a bad routine, really. They were all learning extremely advanced magicks, including several spells that even Cedric hadn’t learned yet.

Another benefit to nightly training sessions was afterwards, once Hermione and Ron cleared out, the boys had the rest of the evening to themselves in the Room of Requirement. Meaning they had sex as frequently as time and their bodies would allow. (It helped that their training sessions seemed to be an aphrodisiac for Cedric.) They were becoming quite good at it, if Harry did say so himself. He still had as much trouble with stamina as would be expected of a fourteen-year-old boy but, at least when it came to the physical motions of it, neither boy had any complaints.

It was strange getting ready for the task with all of them. During the first task, Harry only had Hermione. During the second, he had Ron and Hermione but not Cedric, though Cedric did come through for him in the end. So having all three of them with him was an odd change. Odd, but nice, and certainly fun. Even Ron and Hermione were getting along better after a while. And Harry certainly felt better equipped for the last task than he did for either of the previous two.

But there was another, more serious reason that it felt peculiar working so closely with Cedric for the maze. They were both carefully avoiding one very important detail: they were competing champions. Odds were fifty-fifty that one of them would end up winning. What were they going to do if it came down to the two of them against each other in the maze?

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


As they entered the week of the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament, annoyance finally began to outweigh Harry’s initial appreciation for their constant training. It didn't help that the amount of time they spent on it increased at the start of final exams, from which all champions were exempt. Cedric insisted they put this free time to good use. Unfortunately “good use” meant more training and not more sex like Harry would’ve preferred. Especially considering Harry had gotten a handle on, if not mastered, every spell they’d found and thought would be useful. Now, rather than feeling prepared, he simply felt overworked.

“Fine, fine, fine!” Hermione relented after Harry told her this to her for the eighteenth time. (Ron was keeping count.) “You can take tomorrow night off. It’s not as if you won’t be spending it in the Room of Requirement anyway.” The last bit was mumbled mostly to herself.

“Thank you, Hermione,” Harry said. “You’re a wonderful human being and not in any way a complete slave driver.”

“We’re reviewing on Wednesday, though!” she vowed.

“Yes, fine, perfect, whatever,” said Harry, collapsing on the Room’s couch. “As long as I can have some time to relax so that I don’t, you know, **_explode_**.”

“Come now, Harry, no one’s head explodes from too much practice,” Cedric scoffed.

He sat on the couch beside Harry. Ron and Hermione plopped down in the two chairs that the Room had conjured for them. Despite their training session being over, Hermione continued to leaf through the notebook she’d been using to keep track of the spells they’d gone over.

“Unless too much practice causes you to become so exhausted that you misfire a charm,” Ron theorized. “But then I suppose that’s more of an indirect result.”

“Thanks, Ron,” Cedric said, “that was both helpful and necessary.”

“I’m just saying.”

“And now for a topic having nothing to do with exploding heads,” Hermione proposed. “Cedric, are your parents coming for the task?”

“Yep, yes they are,” he replied. “They’ve only been able to hear about the tournament second-hand until now, so it’ll be pretty cool for them to actually be there this time.”

“I’ll bet,” said Harry. “Must be great having family that isn’t dead or horrible or on the run for being wrongfully convicted of a murder that never happened in the first place.” Harry’s friends stared at him. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Didn’t mean to go to the scary bitter place. It just sucks sometimes, not having a proper family. It’d be nice to have someone come and watch me.”

“Who says you won’t?” Ron muttered quietly.

“What was that?” Harry asked.

“Nothing!” Cedric butt in. He glowered at Ron. “He didn’t say anything! Right, Ron?”

“Yes,” said Ron, ears going pink. “Right.”

Harry looked discerningly between the dubious duo. They both looked highly suspicious.

“You two are hiding something,” he said. “And you aren’t nearly as good at it as the twins are.”

“Well, who is?” Ron contended. “I think it’s time for me and Hermione to be going anyway. We have that – **_thing_** that we need to do.”

“No we don’t,” Hermione objected.

“No, **_we_** don’t,” Ron agreed in a hushed tone. “But **_they_** do.”

“Right,” Hermione said, shutting her notebook. “The thing. **_That_** thing. Right. Gross. We’ll go.”

“I bet you won’t think it’s so gross when it’s **_your_** thing!” Harry called after her as she and Ron left the Room of Requirement.

As soon as the door was closed, Cedric pounced. He pushed Harry down across the couch and straddled his waist, kissing his neck vigorously.

“Oh, so that’s all I’m good for these days, eh?” Harry said. “Training and sex?”

“Like you’re complaining,” Cedric said between kisses.

“Well, maybe not about the second part,” Harry admitted. “What’s with you, anyway? You’re always so horny after training. Do defensive spells turn you on or something?”

“They do when you’re casting them,” Cedric said.

He bit Harry’s neck gently. Cedric seemed to like doing that. Harry thought back on the first hickey Cedric had given him three months earlier. He’d walked around all day with it until Hermione finally noticed. She cast an easy glamour to make it go away while Ron laughed his ass off. Cedric did too, later, when Harry told him about it. Harry, who wondered how many other people had noticed and not said anything, did not find it so amusing.

“Seriously?” he asked, gasping as Cedric’s teeth glided up his neck.

“Totally,” Cedric said huskily. “You look wickedly hot when you’re doing defensive magic. All intense and focused and, oh Merlin.”

“I had no idea,” Harry said, smiling a bit.

“And the look you get when you conjure your Patronus? It’s basically your sex face,” Cedric growled into Harry’s ear as he nibbled at it.

“Makes sense, seeing as that’s usually what I’m thinking about when I conjure it,” Harry responded with a nervous chuckle. “Hey, but don’t think I’m going to let you distract me! I want to know what’s going on with you and Ron!”

“Oh, I think you’re already distracted,” Cedric told him, reaching for the front of Harry's pants.

“Ohh,” Harry whined. “But – but – ”

Harry wanted to stay strong. He wanted to put up a fight, stand his ground, and demand that Cedric tell him what was going on. Somehow, though, his stupid hands missed out on the message, and removed Cedric’s shirt. After that, it was all over.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


True to her word, Hermione allowed Tuesday to be left for rest and relaxation. However, whether out of spite toward her accusation or merely out of a sense of nostalgia, the boys’ evening was not spent in the Room of Requirement. Instead, they went to their old standby: the prefects’ bathroom.

It was Cedric’s idea. He realized that the task fell on the same evening as their anniversary. (Harry was embarrassed to admit that, in the whirlwind of preparation for the task at hand, he’d almost forgotten.) And since they were likely to be too busy to do anything special because of the tournament, they wanted to do something on their free evening instead. And what better a way to celebrate the anniversary of their first date than to return to the site of it?

First they went for a walk over the grounds until it was late enough that they could be sure the room would be clear. Then, when they were certain it would be safe, they headed to the fifth floor. While Cedric locked to door and got towels ready, Harry set to filling the tub with warm water and bubbles. Then the boys stripped naked and dove in.

There was nothing sexual about their fun that night, though. They laughed and splashed and talked and, yes, kissed, but neither boy felt the need to take it further. It wasn’t a night for that. It was a night for fun, and for simply being together. It was exactly what Harry needed to unwind before the task.

Of course, then Hermione’s intensive review session the following day nearly negated all the good it’d done.

“You’ll thank me when you can cast a perfect Disarming Charm,” she insisted.

“I’m sure I will,” Harry said, though in reality he highly doubted it.

But by the end of the night, even Hermione couldn’t find any fault in either boy’s spellcasting.

The Hogwarts champions were ready.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


The third task of the Triwizard Tournament landed on a Thursday, the twenty-fourth of June. As soon as Harry woke that morning, he could already tell it was going to be a very long day. Breakfast only served to belabor this notion. The Great Hall was packed with noisy, rambunctious students. It took Harry ten minutes just to wade through the crowd to reach his usual spot at the Gryffindor table.

“Some day, huh?” Ron shouted at him over the din.

“Yeah, right?” Harry called back, graciously looking over the card from Sirius that Hedwig had delivered. “Every person I pass feels the need to either wish me luck or, well… Let’s just say there’s something they’d like me to go do to myself that only rhymes with ‘luck’.”

“I thought the whole point of having Cedric was you didn’t have to do that,” Ron snickered.

It was at that moment that Hermione spit out her pumpkin juice.

“Merlin’s rusted codpiece, Hermione, it wasn’t that funny!” Ron said.

Only she wasn’t smiling. She was staring, agape, at the front page of the morning’s _Daily Prophet_ in her hands.

 _Rita Skeeter strikes again,_ Harry thought apprehensively. _It was that walk on the grounds last night. I knew it. It knew it was too risky. So stupid! And we were careful for so long! Dammit!!_

“What does it say?” he asked as calmly as he could muster.

“It’s nothing,” Hermione insisted, trying to stuff the paper into her bag.

Ron quickly intercepted it. His face contorted in horror as he saw what had made Hermione do a spit-take.

“No way. Not today. That fucking **_cow_**!”

“What is it?” Harry demanded, growing more anxious by the minute. “It’s Rita Skeeter, right?”

“No,” Ron said unconvincingly, passing the paper back to Hermione.

“You are a bad liar,” Harry told him. “I would reconsider Aurorship if I were you. C’mon, if I don’t see it now I’ll hear about it later from Dorko Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherinbred assholes. So just give it.”

Hermione did, ever so reluctantly, and Harry read what all the fuss was about.

There was a picture of him, under the title _Harry Potter: “Disturbed and Dangerous”_ , with an article following. An article accusing him of being, like the title suggested, disturbed and dangerous.

“Huh.”

Ron and Hermione stared at him.

“That’s it?” Ron said. He took the paper back and began reading the article again, as if determined to find the cause of Harry’s completely underwhelming reaction.

“Could’ve been worse, I suppose,” Harry decided. “The timing sucks, but at least she didn’t print anything serious.”

“What’s this about it being ‘Monday last’?” Ron wondered as he reread. “The thing in Divination happened weeks ago. You’d think a writer would be able to keep her dates straight…”

“Harry, this is pretty serious,” Hermione pointed out. “It says right in the article that she witnessed it happen.”

“She can’t have,” Harry insisted. “Maybe one of the students told her, or-or I opened the window! She could’ve overheard.”

“If it was out among the students before now we would’ve known,” Hermione said. “Plus she said she witnessed it. She’s never had a problem saying she got information from a witness before now, why would she specifically put that she witnessed it if she hadn’t? As for the window thing, well, that’s completely ridiculous. You were the top of the North Tower. Even if you were having a fit –”

“I wasn’t having a fit,” Harry broke in crossly.

“I know that, which is why I said ‘even if you were’ rather than ‘you’re clearly insane and should be locked away,’” Hermione responded. “ ** _Even if you were_** having a fit, your voice could not have carried far enough to hear from the ground. And I think you would’ve noticed her hovering there on a broomstick.”

“You mean in the throes of my fit?” Harry quipped. “Yes, probably. I don’t know what else to tell you, Hermione. You were the one who was supposed research magical methods of bugging. Or have you been too busy with SPEW to bother?”

“Maybe that’s it,” Ron chuckled. “She can turn herself into a house-elf. No one would notice her then.”

“Oh, Ron, don’t be st–” Hermione froze midsentence. “Oh. Ohh. Noooo. **_YES_**!” She jumped out of her seat. “Ohhh. I have to – oh yes – I need to go to the library. I need to – but – yes – I need to look something up.”

“Hermione, are you all right?” Harry asked. He hadn’t seen her this out of sorts since he’d told her Ron was going to the twins’ New Year’s party with Cho Chang.

“What?” she replied absently. “Me? Yes. I’m fine. Great, even. Wonderful.” She grabbed Ron by the shoulders. “You, Ronald, are a genius.”

Then, unexpectedly, she yanked Ron forward and kissed him. Before he could even react, Hermione pulled away with a proud little smile.

“Awesome,” Hermione said. “Great day.”

And in a flash she was gone. Ron stared into the space Hermione had occupied, wearing an expression startlingly similar to that of Barnabas the Barmy. Harry bit down hard on the urge to laugh. After a minute Ron seemed to come out of his daze. He turned to Harry.

“We’re not talking about it,” Harry told him flatly. “I am sick of your drama. You need to either get it together or simply let it go already.”

Ron sagged, then shrugged, and went back to his breakfast.

“Potter,” Professor McGonagall said, appearing inexplicably behind him, “the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Great Hall after breakfast.”

“But the task isn’t until tonight!” Ron exclaimed. “Or is it? Oh Merlin, I can’t take final exams, the days are all starting to bleed together.”

“Calm down, Weasley, the task is tonight,” McGonagall replied. “The champions’ families have been invited to watch the final task. They’re waiting in the chamber to be greeted.”

She continued on toward the staff table. Harry watched her go, stunned.

“She doesn’t – she **_can’t_** think the Dursleys are coming,” he said. “Can she?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ron said with a smirk. “You never know who might show up.”

“You’re being all vague again!” Harry accused.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, mate!” Ron replied, rising from the table. “I’ve got to be going or I’ll be late for Binns.”

“What aren’t you telling me!?”

“Gotta go,” Ron told him. “Big test. Biiig test.”

Harry sighed, and turned back to his eggs, highly irritated. He wasn’t a huge fan of surprises, nor was he a fan of having his best friend and his boyfriend conspiring behind his back. He knew whatever they were doing had to be harmless, otherwise they wouldn’t be so chipper about the whole thing, but that didn’t make Harry any happier about it.

He looked over and saw Cedric head from the Hufflepuff table to the side chamber. Harry frowned when Fleur rise and trot over catch up with him. Cedric merely rolled his eyes. He found Fleur’s infatuation with him quite funny. Harry did not. He wondered at what point he became the jealous one in their relationship. He never used to see himself as the jealous type. Then again, he didn’t used to have a super hot boyfriend.

He also wondered if, given that Cedric’s parents had come to see him, he and Cedric would be practicing together as usual. He supposed not. This left Harry with nothing to do the whole day except worry about the task and brood on the fact that he had no family to come and visit him.

 _You’re a real barrel of laughs sometimes, you know that, Potter?_ he thought to himself.

He was gathering up his things to go, maybe putter around the castle on his own for a while, when Cedric’s head poked out of the chamber door.

“Harry, come on, they’re waiting for you!”

Then, with a smile not unlike the one Hermione had worn when she departed for the library, he returned to the side chamber. Harry stared at the closed door. Who could possibly be in there waiting for him?

 _Oh, no,_ Harry thought, _am I meeting Cedric’s parents? No. Can’t be. Am I? He would’ve told me. Wouldn’t he?_

Whatever was waiting on the other side of that door, Harry had no choice but to face it, especially after Cedric so obviously called him over. And so, with a fair amount of consternation, he crossed the Great Hall and entered the side chamber.

Standing by the chamber’s entrance was Cedric with his parents. He looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye, and that sly, slightly proud smile still lingered on his lips. Harry noticed for the first time that he was wearing the green sweater he’d given him for Christmas, despite the late June heat. Off to either side of the room were Krum and Fleur, conversing with their own parents in their native languages. Fleur’s sister waved at Harry, who waved back. Standing in front of the fireplace, waiting for him, were Mrs. Weasley and Bill.

“Surprise!” said Mrs. Weasley, holding out her hands in an exaggerated surprise gesture. Bill rolled his eyes at his mother’s behavior.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, floored. “I mean, it’s wonderful that you came, truly, but—”

“It was your friend, Cedric,” Mrs. Weasley told him, as she kissed him on the cheek and Bill shook his hand. “He sent an owl saying how you didn’t have anyone to come and, well, I’d been thinking about coming anyway, so I said to myself, ‘well, that settles it.’ The others wanted to come, too, Arthur and Charlie, but Bill here was the only one who could get off work.”

“Cedric – wrote to you?” Harry asked, feeling more surprised by the minute.

“Weeks ago,” Mrs. Weasley said. “He said he’d talked to Ron about it first, but wanted to write me himself. He seems like a very nice young man.”

“Yeah, he is,” Harry replied, glancing at Cedric. “Probably one of the nicest blokes I know.”

They chatted about the school for a few minutes before deciding to take a walk around the castle. As they passed by the Diggorys on their way out of the chamber, Harry stopped.

“Hang on,” Harry said to the Weasleys. He tapped Cedric on the shoulder. In a low tone, he said, “I thought you might want to meet your correspondent.”

“Are you upset?” Cedric whispered.

“Far from it,” he assured him. Then, to Mrs. Weasley and Bill, he said, “This is Cedric.”

“Oh!” said Mrs. Weasley. “Well aren’t you a handsome young man! So sweet of you to write. I’m glad someone else is looking out for our Harry.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Cedric said, looking self-conscious but pleased. He turned to his mother and father. “These are my parents. Harry, you’ve met my father, Amos, of course. And this is my mother, Ruth.”

“It's nice to meet you, Harry,” Mrs. Diggory said, shaking Harry’s hand warmly. “Cedric has spoken very highly of you.”

“Puh,” Mr. Diggory scoffed.

Mrs. Diggory stared at him.

“Honestly, Amos?” she said. “‘Puh’?”

“Ignore him,” Cedric insisted, scowling. “He’s been bothered ever since Rita Skeeter’s article about the Tournament way back in November.”

“And why shouldn’t I be?” Cedric’s father demanded. “Making it sound as if my Ced’s not even in the competition.”

“It’s not his fault, Dad!” Cedric argued. “He didn’t make Skeeter write that.”

“Ah, but he didn’t correct her, did he!” said Mr. Diggory. “Serves him right, what she printed about him today.”

“ ** _Dad_**!”

“Still, you’ll show him, eh, Ced? Beaten him before. By Merlin’s wand, I’ve no doubt you will again.”

“Rita Skeeter goes out of her way to make trouble, Amos, or have you so quickly forgotten the mess she made at the World Cup? Perhaps you should think next time you open your mouth,” Mrs. Weasley said heatedly. “And while you’re at it, you’d do well to remember that Harry is a fourteen-year-old student, not the editor of the _Daily Prophet_ , and as such has no say in what that woman prints.”

Mr. Diggory looked as if he was about to respond to this, until Mrs. Diggory laid a hand on his arm. He continued to frown at Mrs. Weasley, but did not say another word.

“Good to see you, Ruth,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“And you, Molly,” Mrs. Diggory replied.

As Harry left the chamber with the Weasleys, he cast one last backwards glance at Cedric. The older boy was chewing his lip, looking absolutely mortified. Harry gave him a small, encouraging smile before closing the chamber door.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


After a nice long walk over the grounds, Harry and the Weasleys returned to the Great Hall for lunch. It wasn’t long before Ron joined them. He didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see his mother and older brother sitting at the Gryffindor table.

“Hey Mum, Bill,” Ron greeted his family.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Mrs. Weasley smiled.

“What was that you were saying this morning about not hiding anything?” Harry asked.

“It was Cedric’s idea,” Ron swore. “Made me promise to keep it a secret. And you know how I am at keeping secrets. Well, most secrets.”

“Who’s keeping secrets?” asked Hermione, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table.

“You are,” Harry said. “What was that about this morning?” Ron and Hermione looked at each other, so Harry quickly added, “About bugging. You ran out of here—”

“Later,” Hermione told him. She turned to Ron’s mother. “Hi, Mrs. Weasley!”

“Hello, Hermione,” Mrs. Weasley said coolly.

Hermione frowned at this frosty reception. They had figured out long ago that Mrs. Weasley was harboring some resentment toward her, almost definitely as a result of Rita Skeeter’s article in _Witch Weekly_. Harry hadn’t realized she still felt bitter. It was a bit ridiculous, considering the speech she’d given Amos Diggory earlier about the evils of Rita Skeeter. Harry wasn’t willing to let this animosity sit.

“Mrs. Weasley, you know that stuff Rita Skeeter wrote about me and Hermione is all rubbish, right?” he asked. “She made it up. Hermione’s not my girlfriend. And absolutely never-ever will be. Like, really never.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione glared.

“I think we both know you’re sort of quite specifically not my type, Hermione,” Harry shot back.

“Of course I knew Rita was making it up,” Mrs. Weasley said, though her slightly pink cheeks and nervous tone made it clear that she hadn’t. “Though, if I might ask, since Hermione isn’t your type, is there someone who is?”

“Hi, Harry,” said Cedric, appearing suddenly at the boy’s side.

Hermione giggled loudly. Harry glowered at her.

“What?” she said. “How was that not hilarious?”

“I seem to have stumbled into the middle of something,” Cedric said, bewildered.

“I feel much the same way, dear,” Mrs. Weasley consoled him.

“Mrs. Weasley, I was wondering if I might be able to borrow Harry for the afternoon,” Cedric requested. “I know that you and your son have traveled a long way to see him, and I know how difficult it is to give up Harry’s company, so I’ll understand if you’d prefer not. It’s just that we have a few, er, strategies to go over before the task. You know, last minute preparation.”

“My word, you’re a charmer,” Mrs. Weasley told him. “You’re like a young Gilderoy Lockhart. You know, before he went nutty.”

Harry frowned. He did not want to have his boyfriend compared to Lockhart. Although, Cedric probably could win _Witch Weekly_ ’s Most Charming Smile award a few times in a row himself, especially for the bashful smile he had on now.

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” he said. “That’s very kind of you. So, is it all right?”

“It’s fine by me,” she answered. “I’m sure Bill and I can find a way to occupy ourselves for a while.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, hoping she was.

“Of course,” she reassured him. “You go and have fun with your— your friend. We’ll see you at dinner.”

Something about the way Mrs. Weasley said ‘friend’ made Harry pause for a moment. But only for a moment, until he realized he’d just been given permission to leave with Cedric for the entire afternoon. He grinned and said goodbye to everyone, and then they bounded out of the Great Hall together.

“But where are your parents?” Harry asked as they came to the entrance hall.

“Told them I had a bit of practice to do before the task tonight,” Cedric explained. He straightened the collar of Harry’s shirt, running a thumb over the skin at the base of his neck, adding, “I just wasn’t completely forthcoming about what sort of practice I’d be doing.”

“Oh, is that what you had in mind?” Harry said. “You know, you were the one who was afraid of being dumped after he gave it up, but now who’s the one being treated like a piece of meat?”

“But such a pretty piece of meat!” Cedric insisted. “So, to the Room, then?”

“Actually, Mr. Bold Ideas,” said Harry, “You know, with everyone taking exams and all, Gryffindor Tower should be mostly abandoned. I mean, if you’re up for the challenge of sneaking in.”

“Oh, I’m up,” Cedric affirmed.

“Good to know,” Harry replied.

He hurried up the marble staircase, with Cedric following close behind.

They made their way to the seventh floor like this, Harry a few paces ahead of Cedric so as not to arouse suspicion about the two Hogwarts champions being in such close proximity the day of the final task. After months of hiding their relationship from the public eye, the boys had become quite adept at it. The only time they weren’t good about hiding their affection was when they truly didn’t give a damn who saw. It was an odd line they walked, going back and forth between overt gestures and completely ignoring each other. And it was becoming difficult for Harry to keep up with. The longer their secrecy went on, the more he wanted it to end. After today, after the Triwizard Tournament was over, there was little point to it any longer. There would be scorn for their sexuality, Harry knew that, but there would always be scorn. He couldn’t hide in fear forever. What difference did it make if it was sooner rather than later?

Harry gave the password to the Fat Lady, who raised an eyebrow when she saw Cedric come up behind him but said nothing as her portrait swung open. Poking his head in through the circular entrance, Harry scanned the common room. It was empty. He climbed through, gesturing silently for Cedric to follow. They rushed to the doorway for the boys’ dorms and quickly climbed the stairs to Harry’s room. Harry began humming to himself.

“What is that?” Cedric whispered. “What are you doing?”

“It’s the Mission: Impossible theme,” Harry said.

“What?”

“Mission: Impossible,” Harry reiterated. “It was a Muggle television program about a spy.”

“Does it really seem like a good time to be humming the music from a Muggle television program right now?” Cedric asked.

“That’s an excellent question,” Harry told him, “and I would totally answer it, except we’re here.”

Harry opened the door marked ‘Fourth Years’ and ducked inside. Cedric followed, shutting the door behind him. Harry dove on his bed, and Cedric sat down beside him. He looked around the room.

“So this is Gryffindor,” he observed. “Not bad. It must be cool to have real windows.” He poked the pile of laundry beside Harry’s bed with his foot. “You were right, it is messier than ours.”

“Hey, lay off!” Harry said indignantly. “I’ve had a lot going on, in case you haven’t noticed. Like, meeting my boyfriend’s parents.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Cedric said remorsefully. “My dad can be – difficult, sometimes. If I’d known it was going to happen I would’ve warned you to, you know, run in the opposite direction as fast as you possibly could.”

“It’s okay,” Harry assured him. “Your mum seems nice.”

“She’s great,” Cedric replied. “And he is too, honestly. Most of the time. Just really competitive and, well, you’re the competition. Still, it was completely unfair of him to bring up this morning’s paper like that. I can’t believe he did it.” Cedric picked at Harry’s sheets as he asked, hesitantly, “How are you dealing with that?”

“Same way I always do,” Harry told him. “By ignoring it. Just don’t let this one end up in that box of yours, ‘kay?”

“No problem,” Cedric pledged.

“Truth be told, I thought it was going to be much worse. You know, about…”

“About us,” Cedric filled in. “Yeah, I keep waiting for that Erumpent horn to blow, too. It’ll all be over tomorrow, though. Then we won’t be in the spotlight anymore.”

" ** _You_** won't be," Harry pointed out. "I'll always be in the spotlight." For a minute he was silent, pensive. "Cedric, if you – you know, you don't have to –” He cleared his throat. "It's like I said, I'm always going to be in the spotlight. It was front page news when I was entered in the Tournament. So when I'm out publicly, it's going to be very publicly. The whole world will know. And whoever I'm with – he'll eventually be outed to. If you want to end this before that happens, I'll understand."

"Okay, you need to stop coming up with reasons for me to break up with you!" Cedric accused jokingly. "I'm going to start thinking you actually want me to."

"I don't! Or at least I don't **_want_** you to," Harry clarified. "I just – the reason I'm bringing it up is that, I'm tired of worrying about it. About being outed. By Rita Skeeter, or a student, or even by my own stupid actions. I'm tired of living in fear of it. I don't want to anymore. And I was thinking, you know, fuck it. I am who I am. It's not like I'm planning on throwing myself some huge Pride Parade or anything, but... I'm done hiding."

"Pride Parade, huh?" Cedric snorted. "You've come a long way from the boy who didn't know what a fag hag was."

"I have," Harry agreed. "I think that's why I've come to this conclusion. And..." Harry cast his gaze down at the bed sheets. "And I understand if you aren't ready."

“Are you serious?” Cedric replied incredulously. “Harry, I love you. No, look at me.” He touched Harry’s chin, gently directing his face back up so his eyes met Cedric’s. “I love you, with every part of me. I can’t wait to tell the whole world how much I love you. I want to take out a full page color ad in the _Daily Prophet_ announcing it, with dancing hearts and pictures of you. I want to climb to the top of the North Tower and scream it across the grounds!” His eyes slid to Harry’s window. “In fact…”

He jumped up off the bed and bolted toward the window, throwing it open with an insane grin on his face.

“Cedric,” said Harry nervously, “what are you doing?”

“HEY, EVERYONE!” Cedric hollered out the window. “ ** _I LOVE HARRY POTTER!_** ”

Harry stared, dumbfounded, unable to react for about three seconds. Then he regained his senses and quickly rushed to the window. Cedric fought as Harry attempted to pry him away. Despite himself, Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

“I LOVE HARRY!” he squawked. “I LOVE HARRY!”

“Cut it out!” Harry giggled. “Cut it out, someone’ll hear!”

“I don’t care,” Cedric told him. Then, out the window, he repeated, “ ** _I DON’T CARE!_** ”

He allowed Harry to drag him away, at last, and throw him back onto the bed. Harry lay beside him. Both boys were in a fit of laughter.

“You are completely, utterly, barking mad,” Harry informed him.

“Madly in love, maybe,” Cedric countered.

“You come up with the worst lines, you know that?” Harry said. “Very sweet, but very corny.”

“You bring out my corny side,” Cedric replied. He shook his head. “What would possibly make you think that I wouldn’t want to do this with you?”

“Well, your dad—”

“Is an ass!” Cedric cut in. “All due respect, he’s a good man and I love him, and in a lot of ways I really admire him, but he can be so freaking stubborn and closed-minded sometimes. What he thinks doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care what anyone thinks except us.”

“Okay then,” said Harry. “So, we’ll stick with it for one more day, what with the tournament and all. And then tomorrow…”

“Yeah,” Cedric grinned. “Tomorrow.”

They stared at each other, grinning sheepishly.

“Scared?” Cedric asked.

“Yeah,” Harry admitted with a skittish laugh. “To death, actually. Scared but… ready.”

“Me too,” said Cedric.

He crawled across the bed, over Harry, and kissed him. Harry’s hands wrapped themselves in Cedric’s hair before making their way down to his back. His legs wrapped around Cedric’s waist, pulling the older boy closer. He kissed Cedric’s neck, knowing how much he loved that. The older boy groaned. A thought popped into his mind, unexpected though not entirely unwelcome.

Not unwelcome at all.

In fact, the more Harry thought about it, with Cedric hovering above him, the more exciting the notion became. It seemed to be an afternoon of split-second decisions for Harry, so he decided to just go with it.

He rolled them both over so he was on top and sat up, straddling Cedric’s waist.

“I believe you said something about a piece of meat?” Cedric said, pawing the front of Harry’s jeans.

“Actually,” Harry said, holding Cedric’s hands still, “I was thinking…” He smiled shyly. “What if you, you know… What if we tried it with you being on top?”

“You mean like positions? Because we have done me riding you before, I could be up for that.”

As Harry shook his head, a look of understanding came over Cedric’s face, then surprise, and finally barely-contained joy. Cedric was beaming like a boy who’d just been told Christmas came early, and that his present was everything he wanted and more.

“Oh,” he said, his calm tone hardly masking his true feelings. “Are you sure? I don’t mind being on bottom. I **_really_** don’t mind.”

“I’m aware,” Harry smirked. “But I want to do this.”

Cedric’s brow creased uncertainly.

“This isn’t more of that ‘someone entered you in the tournament so you can die at any moment’ dragonshit, is it?” he asked. “With the last task being tonight and all?”

“Maybe a little,” Harry conceded. “So what if it is? It doesn’t mean I don’t want this.”

“I just want to make sure you’re not rushing into something you’re not ready for because you’re afraid that –that something might happen to you tonight,” Cedric said.

“In the name of Merlin and all of his all his wacky magical wonders,” Harry cried. “if I have to stop coming up with reasons for you to break up with me, you have to stop coming up with ways to talk me out of having sex. I want this. I want to be with you.”

“Fine, fine,” Cedric relented. “Just making sure you’re okay.”

“I am okay,” Harry told him. “Scared but ready, remember?”

He dipped down to kiss Cedric.

“Okay?” Harry whispered in his ear.

Cedric nodded.

And in a matter of minutes, Harry was no longer a virgin.

After, Harry scooted over to lay his head on Cedric’s chest. The older boy draped an arm over Harry’s back, stroking the exposed skin gently.

“That was incredible,” Cedric declared.

“I know,” Harry concurred. “Your heart is still racing.”

“That’s not the sex,” Cedric told him. “That’s just what it does when I’m around you.”

“Again, corny,” Harry remarked. “But I’ll take it.”

“I love you,” Cedric said, kissing the top of Harry’s head.

“Mm, I love you, too,” said Harry, making himself comfortable on Cedric’s chest.

“Harry?” Cedric said. “Are you falling asleep?”

“Tired,” Harry mumbled.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Cedric told him, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced himself.

“Just a quick nap?” Harry pleaded. “I’m wiped. And it’s pro’ly not a good idea t’be exhausted for tonight.”

“It might make us late,” Cedric stated.

“Does’at mean you don’ wanna?” Harry asked, already pretty sure of the answer.

“No,” Cedric sighed. “Not at all, I just wanted you to be aware that when Hogwarts loses the Triwizard Cup because we’re both disqualified for tardiness, it’ll be your fault.”

“If I wasn’t ready to take immense risks for loving you,” Harry said, as coherently as he could muster, “I wouldn’t be in this relationship in the first place.”

Cedric made a face, like he was considering this seriously, then said, “Good point,” and made no further protest as the two champions drifted off to sleep.

  



	27. In the Dark of the Night

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**

“In the Dark of the Night”

  


Harry awoke to the feeling of Cedric’s bare chest rising and falling under his cheek. It was a most ideal way to wake up.

He shifted the tiniest bit so he could look up at Cedric. His face was relaxed, and the dying sunlight made his features glow. Harry’s mind flashed back to a month previously, when Cedric was attacked by an unidentified assailant. Then he had looked – well, Harry didn’t want to think about what he had looked like. Harry never wanted to see his boyfriend like that again. Here and now, Cedric was beautiful. His appearance made Harry think of a sleeping angel.

Or at least it did until Cedric smirked and lifted one eyelid to stare back at him.

“You’re watching me sleep,” he murmured.

“Maybe,” Harry replied coyly. “You’re so handsome. I can’t help myself.”

Cedric’s smirk became a smile as he stroked Harry’s hair.

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” he said. Then he yawned and glanced around Harry’s room. “How long were we asleep?”

“Don’t know,” Harry answered. “It’s getting dark out.”

“Shit,” Cedric muttered, glimpsing at his watch. “Almost time for dinner. We really cut it close.”

“At least we aren’t late for the task,” Harry offered sheepishly. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault we fell asleep.”

Smiling, Cedric lowered his head to give Harry a kiss.

“I wouldn’t have had it any other way,” Cedric assured him. “Now c’mon, let’s get dressed.”

Harry and Cedric hopped out of bed and began getting dressed. They tossed each other articles of clothing that were strewn haphazardly around the bed.

“Why are you wearing this,” Harry asked, holding up Cedric’s green sweater, “in the middle of June?”

“Today’s our anniversary, and you gave it to me,” Cedric explained as he yanked on his boxer-briefs. “I wanted to wear it for good luck.”

“Well, you certainly got lucky,” Harry chortled, drawing up his boxers and jeans.

“Did I ever,” Cedric growled.

He pulled Harry to him, the slowly building erection in his briefs pressing against the front of Harry’s jeans. He was just diving in for a kiss when the door to the dormitory swung open. The boys, Harry still shirtless and Cedric in only his boxer-briefs, turned around, horror-struck.

Standing in the doorway, hand still on the knob, his face as red as a tomato, was Neville Longbottom.

“I – guh – !” he stammered. “I didn’t see anything!”

And then, as quickly as it’d been opened, the door was slammed shut, with Neville still on the outside. Harry and Cedric gawked at each other.

“I know we were planning on coming out,” Cedric said faintly, “but I didn’t expect to start in my underwear.”

“I’m so sorry, Cedric,” Harry apologized, sinking onto the bed. “I should’ve locked the door. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cedric told him, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Do you think he’ll tell anyone what he saw?”

“No, Neville’s a good guy,” Harry assured him. “He already knows about me. He accidentally picked up my Wizardry and Homosexuality book ages ago, so I told him. It was while we, er, weren’t together, though, so he didn’t know about you. At least, not before now.” Harry thought about what he’d seen in Dumbledore’s Pensieve weeks earlier, about Frank and Alice Longbottom. “Don’t worry about Neville. He’s good at keeping secrets.”

“It’s not like it would make a difference,” Cedric supposed. “People will know in a few days’ time anyway. That is, unless you’ve changed your mind.”

“I haven’t,” Harry said firmly, staring into Cedric’s eyes. “Promise.”

“Okay.”

Cedric bent down to kiss Harry, then went back to getting dressed. Harry got up and followed suit.

“You know, it is a bit hot,” Cedric admitted. “Is it all right if I leave the sweater for now? Maybe, uh, come and collect later, when we can have a repeat performance?”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry smiled. “Want to put on the Invisibility Cloak and I’ll walk you out?”

“Probably a good idea,” Cedric said. “It’s one thing to come out of the broom cupboard, so to speak. It’s another thing to be spotted by the whole of Gryffindor House stumbling out of the boys’ dormitory. Especially after all those rumors that started about Michael Corner when he did.”

“Ah, apparently those weren’t just rumors,” Harry informed him. “He is, as Fred Weasley put it, a ‘total bottom’.” He thought for a second before wondering aloud, “Hey, do you think it was Fred’s room he was stumbling out of?”

“Probably,” Cedric replied. “From the whispers I’ve heard, Fred’s had his fair share of cock.”

“Well,” Harry said, doing up the last button on his shirt, “some aren’t lucky enough to find the right guy on their first go.”

“Not like us,” Cedric crowed.

“You’re such a dork,” Harry grinned, though secretly he loved every word of it.

He pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk, and handed it to Cedric. The older boy slipped it on, disappearing instantly beneath the fabric. Harry led the way down to the common room. Neville, who sitting at a table by himself, turned red again when he saw Harry. He did, however, still nodded cordially at him. Harry nodded back, moving as quickly as he could to the exit. As soon as they were out, Harry scanned the corridor.

“All clear,” he said.

Cedric wrenched the Cloak off and gave it back to Harry.

“We’re getting pretty good at this cloak and dagger stuff,” Cedric remarked.

“Yeah, literally,” Harry quipped, holding up the Cloak. “Won’t need to be much longer.”

“No we won’t,” Cedric agreed.

After checking to make sure there was still no one nearby, Cedric gave Harry one last kiss.

“I’ll see you later, then,” he said.

“Yeah, see you later,” Harry replied. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Cedric said, turning to head off toward the stairs.

Harry watched him go until he rounded a corner, and then went back into Gryffindor Tower to get ready for dinner. The final task of the Triwizard Tournament was soon to begin.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


Once he’d showered and changed into his clothes for the tournament, Harry headed down to the Great Hall, where dinner was already underway. The Weasleys and Hermione were all sitting together. Harry joined them, having a seat next to Mrs. Weasley. It felt like being back at the Burrow, the seven of them all sitting around a table, eating and talking and laughing.

Until Mrs. Weasley asked him, quietly, so the others couldn’t hear, “Did you and your **_friend_** have a nice afternoon, dear?”

Harry nearly spit up the bite of food he’d just taken.

“Er, yeah,” he answered, feeling his face grow hot. “We got loads done. I feel much more prepared for the task now.”

“That’s good,” Mrs. Weasley said. She looked at Harry meaningfully. “He seems like a very nice young man. I’m happy that you have him. You know, as a friend.”

And Harry looked back at her, realizing what she was trying to say.

“Mrs. Weasley,” he said, “you **_know_** , don’t you?”

Mrs. Weasley smiled affectionately at him, her expression indicating her answer.

“How?”

“I’m a mother, Harry,” she told him. “It’s my job to know these things.” In a whisper, she added, “Fred may think he’s got one over on me, but really I’m the one who’s waiting until he’s ready to tell.”

“And you’re—” Harry hesitated, unsure he wanted an answer, then ultimately decided that, yes, he did. “You’re okay with it? With me, being…?”

“There was a time, when I had thought – when I had hoped…” Mrs. Weasley glanced across the table, at Ginny, who was gabbing away with Hermione. “But no. Harry, you’re a part of this family. And I love you like I love any one of my sons. Now, finish your dinner. You’re going to need your strength for tonight.”

Touched, Harry nodded, and went back to his meal.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


A while after Harry’s exchange with Mrs. Weasley, Dumbledore announced that the task was soon to begin. After his companions all wished him good luck, Harry followed Ludo Bagman out of the Great Hall, with Cedric and the other champions. Cedric came swiftly to Harry’s side.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry said.

“Spell wear off?”

“A little while ago,” Harry told him. “I’m a bit sore, but it’s no worse than a rough Quidditch practice on an old broom.”

“Good,” said Cedric. “It’s the same for me. I wasn’t sure if it had that effect on everyone, though. Just wanted to…”

“You’re looking out for me,” said Harry. “I know. I appre—”

“Feeling all right, Harry?” Bagman interrupted, coming up unexpectedly on Harry’s other side. “Confident?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Bagman,” Harry said, frustrated by the unwelcome disturbance. “I was just talking with Cedric here –”

“Yes, yes,” said Bagman, waving a hand dismissively at the other boy. “Are you sure, though? Need any pointers or anything?”

Harry stared at Bagman, flabbergasted. Sure, he was annoyed by the intrusion in their conversation. But more than that, he was outraged that the man was once again singling him out, and even more so that this Ministry official was ignoring one champion in favor of another. Harry'd had enough. Bagman stole his and Cedric's last few moments before the first task by insisting on offering the boy help. Harry wasn't going to let that happen again.

“I said I’m fine, Mr. Bagman,” Harry snapped. “Now, like I said, I was just talking with Cedric here. And if you don’t mind, I’ll be going back to that now.”

“Right, of course,” Bagman said, looking properly admonished. “Excuse me.” He went quickly back to the head of their group.

“You seem to have a problem with authority, Mr. Potter,” Cedric observed lightly.

“He was out of line,” Harry responded gruffly.

“You’re right, he was.” Cedric’s face broke into a grin. “Still, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone tell Bagman off like that, and that includes the Minister of Magic himself.”

“Well, the Minister of Magic isn’t me, is he?” Harry said proudly.

“I’m grateful for that,” Cedric laughed. “You’re much hotter than Cornelius Fudge.”

“Thanks,” said Harry, cracking a grin himself. “I’m glad you think so.”

They arrived at the Quidditch pitch a few short minutes later. The hedges had grown in the month since Harry had seen them last. They were more like vast green walls now. More than twenty feet in height, the hedge-walls formed a box that took up nearly the whole field. There was only one gap in the dense, almost solid shrubbery: the entrance. The bit of the inside that Harry could see was shadowy, foreboding. All of a sudden Harry wasn’t so certain he preferred this to underground tunnels.

As the Triwizard champions stood before the maze, the stands slowly began to fill. The spectators were all faceless blurs from where Harry was standing. He could make out some distinguishing features though. He was able to spot the Viktorias, and could just barely read their scarlet “MARRY US, VIKTOR!” banner. (And yes, it said “US” not “ME”.) It wasn’t hard for him to locate his group. There was a clump of six people with flaming red hair, accompanied by one bushy-haired brunette. They waved exaggeratedly when they saw Harry watching. Harry waved back timidly.

He glanced over at Cedric. The champion from Hufflepuff was staring up into the stands, waving at the occasional cheering fan. He seemed a lot less nervous than Harry felt, more at ease, though not at all overconfident. He was too gallant for that, too humple. Yet his compassionate exterior was in no way congruent with the pretty boy reputation he held. He was more strong and courageous than most people gave him credit for. There was a lot of Gryffindor in him, really – and not simply the part that Harry put into him on a semi-regular basis.

More than just Gryffindor, he was clever as any Ravenclaw and cunning as any Slytherin. His appearance, his behavior, everything about him screamed ‘champion’ in a way Harry never felt he measured up to. As far as Harry was concerned, Cedric was the real Hogwarts champion between the two of them. Not that Harry was jealous by any means. Maybe he would’ve been, if he wasn’t so in love with the boy. No, Harry was proud of Cedric. Proud to know him, proud to love him, and proud to be loved by him.

Harry looked upward. Through the bright lights of the stadium, Harry could hardly even make out the stars in the night sky. It was strange for Harry, to be standing on the grass of the Quidditch field instead of up in the air above it. He definitely preferred it on his broom.

McGonagall entered the field and approached their group, with Hagrid, Moody, and Flitwick in tow. She explained that they would be patrolling the perimeter of the maze, and should any of them be in danger or choose to forfeit the competition they were to shoot red sparks into the air. An official would come in and retrieve them. Before Harry had time to wonder what could’ve possibly been inside that they would need to be rescued from the patrolmen were off, and Bagman was announcing that the task was about to commence. Harry didn’t pay any attention to Bagman’s recap of the tournament so far. He was more focused on going over spells in his head. To his surprise, he found he didn’t have to work too hard to remember them. Apparently all of Hermione and Cedric’s drilling had paid off.

 _I might just come out of this unscathed,_ Harry thought to himself.

“So… on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!” Bagman bellowed. “Three – two – one –”

Bagman’s whistle sounded sharply, and Harry and Cedric ran into the maze, side by side.

The boys didn’t speak as they hurried down the first pathway, except to light the tips of their wands. The interior of the maze was every bit as eerie and dark as the entrance had suggested. It was unnaturally quiet, too. The crowd outside sounded like it was miles away. And there were other noises, dim but still menacing, that sounded like they were coming from somewhere within the maze itself.

After several dozen yards, the pathway divided in two directions. Harry and Cedric stopped and looked at each other, panting. It was an awkward moment. Harry knew they needed to split up, but he didn’t want to. Something about being inside the maze caused him to feel like, if they did, they’d never see each other again. It was an irrational fear, Harry knew, but that awareness didn’t make the feeling go away.

“I guess this is it,” Cedric said at last.

“Yeah,” Harry replied dully.

“No sense dragging it out, eh?” Cedric said, putting on an obviously forced smile. “I’ll see you on the outside.”

“Okay,” said Harry.

He turned and headed down the left path.

“Harry!” Cedric called.

The older boy grabbed Harry by the shoulder and spun him around. Cedric pulled Harry close and kissed him. Harry’s arms wrapped around Cedric’s shoulders, deepening their kiss. They didn’t part until they heard sound of Bagman’s whistle outside the maze, heralding Krum’s entrance.

“Love you,” Cedric said, giving Harry a tight hug.

“Love you too,” Harry said back.

They broke apart, and went down their different paths, deeper into the maze. By the time Harry turned down another trail, Bagman’s whistle had blown for the third and final time. They were all inside the maze now.

It was unsettlingly easy, traveling inside the hedges. Ten minutes in, Harry still hadn’t come across an obstacle more difficult than an incorrectly chosen path. He wondered if that was on purpose, that the maze was letting paranoia get to him instead of an actual foe. But then why would McGonagall have said they would rescue any champion who was in danger? There didn’t seem to be anything dangerous at all.

No sooner did Harry think this than Cedric burst out of a passage to his right. He was clearly agitated, and the cuff of his right pant leg was smoldering.

“ _Aguamenti! Aguamenti!_ ” he cried, pointing his wand at the flames. A jet of water shot out of the tip, extinguishing them.

“Are you okay??” Harry asked, disturbed at seeing Cedric be burned for the second time that year.

“There’s Blast-Ended Skrewts in here!” he snarled. “How sick is that!? It was flipping enormous! I barely got away before it could skewer me, or worse.” He looked at Harry, concerned. “What about you? You doing all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry told him. “Actually, I haven’t come across anything yet.”

Cedric stared.

“Really.” He sounded mildly perturbed. “Nothing at all?”

“No,” Harry answered, feeling oddly guilty that he hadn’t faced anything. “But I’m sure I’ll be mauled by something real soon!”

“Well, here’s hoping, right?” Cedric said, with a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows. He clapped Harry on the shoulder, then ducked down another path and out of sight.

Seeing Cedric reinvigorated Harry. He’d begun to feel like he was completely alone in the maze. He would’ve been grateful even to face a Blast-Ended Skrewt to know he wasn’t abandoned, running in endless circles.

 _Well, maybe not a Skrewt,_ Harry corrected. _But something, anyway._

His wish was granted a few minutes later when he was set upon by a boggart masquerading as a dementor. After defeating it easily, Harry wandered on through the maze, using the Four-Point Spell that Hermione taught him to try and find the best pathway to the Cup. His heart nearly stopped when he heard Fleur’s scream. Suddenly Harry didn’t feel so bad about not having come across any obstacles. He hurried to the spot he thought the shout had come from. It was empty. There were no red sparks overhead. This led Harry to believe that either Fleur had gotten herself out of trouble, or else the trouble got the best of her. Deciding there was nothing he could do for her, and that he’d rather not hang around and possibly let whatever had gotten her take him as well, Harry bolted.

It was another ten minutes of twists and turns before Harry came across anything else. And anything else is exactly what Harry would’ve preferred over the huge, lumbering Blast-Ended Skrewt that he encountered. It nearly torched him before he got it with the Impediment Curse. Harry ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction and began searching for a different route to the Cup.

He was sprinting down another path a short while later when he heard a commotion from the other side of the hedge on his left. An angry voice.

Cedric’s voice.

“What are you doing? What the hell do you think you’re doing!?”

Followed by Krum’s.

“ _Crucio!_ ”

For a split second, Harry thought his heart really might have stopped. Then, when he heard Cedric screaming, crying out in agony, he snapped into action. He scanned the leafy wall for a possible passageway that would allow him access to the other side. There was none. Panicked and desperate, he pointed his wand directly at the hedge.

“ _Reducto!_ ” he hollered. “ _REDUCTO! REDUCTO_! **_REDUCTO!_** ”

In no time there was a hole large enough for Harry to squeeze through. He forced his way in like a man possessed, wrestling branches that tore his clothes and scraped his skin. Once he was through the wall, he could see the grizzly scene that he’d been hearing play out as he fought past the hedge. Krum was standing over Cedric, who was curled up on the ground, convulsing and thrashing. He was no longer crying out, and his face was expressionless, void of emotion. An unholy rage boiled up inside Harry.

“ _STUPEFY!_ ” he roared, pointing his wand at his boyfriend’s attacker.

Krum keeled over instantly. Harry rushed over to Cedric. The boy was lying on his side, drenched in sweat, with his face now covered by his hands. He was panting, sobbing. When Harry placed a hand on Cedric’s soaked back, he lifted his head. Harry only caught a glimpse of the other boy’s face before it was buried his chest, but what he saw there broke his heart; confusion, betrayal, torment. Harry clutched Cedric firmly. The older boy was still trembling.

“I don’t know what happened,” Cedric gasped. “He just came up behind me and – I can’t believe he would do that!”

“It’s okay,” Harry soothed, “it’s okay.”

After a while, Cedric took a long breath in, then pulled away from Harry and stood up. Harry stood, too. Cedric brushed the dirt off his pants and swallowed a very large lump in his throat.

“All right,” he said, wiping his tear-stained face. “I’m all right.”

“Cedric, please don’t be brave on my account.”

“I’m not,” he replied, though his voice was tight and his eyes were brimming with tears. “I’m not, I’m not, I’m not.”

Harry understood. Cedric wasn’t being brave for him. He was being brave for himself. Harry could still see him shaking. He wanted to take the older boy in his arms, hold him tight and never let go. The urge to send up red sparks and get Cedric out of the maze as quickly as possible was overwhelming. But Harry knew that Cedric would be mortified if he had to be ushered out in the middle of the task like that, like he was some kind of delicate flower. Cedric was proud, and didn’t like to appear weak, especially not in front of so many people like that.

Quitting was not an option. Harry was unwilling to leave Cedric on his own, though. Not after what he’d just been through.

“Wanna walk for a little while?” Harry suggested.

Cedric looked at him, then down along the ominous, dark green path. He seemed uneasy. He wasn’t biting his lip, and that made Harry worry even more. At last, he nodded.

“Yeah, okay,” Cedric mumbled.

So, after reluctantly sending up red sparks over Krum’s fallen form, they walked.

For a little while all they did was walk together in silence. After about thirty feet and a right turn, Harry slid his hand into Cedric’s. There were still tiny tremors running through his fingers, but squeezing Harry’s hand seemed to help control them. It was Cedric who finally spoke first.

“You know, it’s sort of stupid to have spectators for the task when they can’t even see us inside the maze,” he commented.

“I know,” said Harry. “I felt the same way about the second task. If it was a Muggle sporting event they’d have cameras at every corner and big TV screens showing what was going on inside. I’m surprised the Ministry or someone didn’t come up with something similar.”

“For everything we have that they don’t, they’ve still got an edge on us in terms of cleverness sometimes,” Cedric mused. “So, any plans this summer?”

Harry snorted.

“Speaking of Muggles, I suppose,” he said darkly. “No, no plans, except for being shipped back to my aunt and uncle’s. Then it’s just a matter of surviving until I get to come back.”

“It’s really that bad, isn’t it.”

“It really is,” Harry confirmed. “You know, I’m probably the only student here who dreads going home for the summer more than returning to school. I’d much rather be here, at Hogwarts.”

“Well, maybe I could come visit you,” Cedric proposed. “It’s not the same as being here, but at least we’d get to see each other, right?”

“You’d do that?” Harry asked, trying not to sound too excited. The last time he’d been promised something wonderful to come home to, the person had to fly off on a hippogriff. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. “How?”

“I’m seventeen,” Cedric reminded him. “I passed my Apparation test already. Where do you live again? Little Wingding?”

“Whinging,” Harry corrected him.

“I should probably look it up on a map or something before I come,” Cedric theorized. “Anyway, what do you think? I had plans to go camping with my dad at some point, but otherwise I’m free as a phoenix all of break. I could come as often as you’d like.”

“How does everyday work for you?” Harry joked.

Cedric grinned. The color was starting to return to his face. They made another right turn and kept walking.

“Everyday works fine for me,” Cedric grinned. “It’ll be great.”

“'Great' is a very strong overstatement,” Harry told him. “It's Little Whinging, not, like, Disney World or something.”

“What's Disney World?” Cedric asked curiously.

“I'll explain later,” Harry assured him.

“Well I think it'll be awesome,” said Cedric. “You can show me where you grew up. And hey, you stay with Ron over the summer sometimes, right? Maybe you could come and stay with me for a few days.”

“That would be great, Cedric,” Harry replied, hesitant to voice his uncertainty about the idea.

“I might even ask my dad if you could come camping with us. We could do it the Muggle way, just like we said we would.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” Harry said. “Your dad doesn’t like me, remember?”

“He’ll come around,” Cedric insisted.

“If you say so,” Harry replied. Wishing to change the subject, he said, “Do you think they’ll have the field ready in time for Quidditch next year?”

“They’d better!” Cedric exclaimed. “Otherwise I might as well stay home!”

“Merlin, don’t even kid!” Harry admonished, bumping Cedric gently with his shoulder. “I couldn’t handle being here if you didn’t come back.”

“Oh, settle down,” Cedric said. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, baby.”

They turned left around another corner.

“Besides,” he continued, “next year is our chance to have that Quidditch rematch we never got. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

“Ooh, now **_that’s_** something to look forward to,” Harry said with excitement. “We’ll finally find out who the superior Seeker is.”

“I don’t think there’s really a question,” Cedric replied.

He dramatically flexed his muscles, making Harry laugh. (And, though he wouldn’t admit to it out loud, it also turned him on quite a bit, watching Cedric’s muscles flexing through his shirt.) Harry was glad to see Cedric in brighter spirits after his attack.

The faux-posturing drew Harry’s attention to Cedric’s shirt, his Triwizard gear, and abruptly reminded Harry that, as they walked hand in hand, they were still in the middle of the last task with a stadium full of people surrounding them. He’d nearly forgotten. Spending time with Cedric usually did make Harry forget where he was, but never on such a large scale before. They still had to finish the maze. He was going to point this out to Cedric but decided to wait a little while longer. He felt no need to rush it.

Their stroll brought Harry back to the Quidditch World Cup and their first real conversation, excluding Cedric’s visit to him in the hospital wing. Harry had found him surprisingly easy to talk to as they walked to their camp grounds, though they were practically strangers then. He’d never met someone like him, someone who understood what it felt like to have people expect so much of you. Ron’s parents never expected much and Hermione work hard for no one’s approval but her own. But Cedric was like him. As Harry reminisced, a question occurred to him that, for some reason, had not until now.

“Cedric,” he said, “you never told me: why did you enter the tournament?”

“To impress you, of course,” Cedric teased.

“No, really.”

Cedric shrugged self-consciously.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, there isn’t any one reason, really. You know, you enter something like this, you never really expect to get picked.”

“But you entered,” Harry pressed. “If you don’t want to tell me it’s fine, I guess.”

“Well, it’s like I said, there isn’t any one reason,” Cedric explained. “Loads of other people were entering, and everyone was telling me I should, too. Kept telling me I’d be perfect.”

“Seems they were right,” Harry noted. “You really are perfect.”

“Don’t know about that,” Cedric mumbled skeptically.

For a minute, Cedric didn't speak. Harry wondered if he was upset, and couldn't understand why. Then, finally, Cedric said, "Harry, did you know that my father was a Gryffindor?"

Harry was stunned.

"No,” he replied. “You never said. I sort of assumed he was a Hufflepuff like you."

"Nope," said Cedric. "My mum was. I remember, he'd tease her about it when I was little. He wouldn’t be mean or anything, just some slight ribbing. He'd say something like, 'oh, you Hufflepuffs are too sensitive for your own good.' Stuff like that. And he would always talk about how I was going to end up a Gryffindor like him. So when I was sorted into Hufflepuff, I was devastated. My dad, he was pretty good about it, but I knew he was disappointed."

"It doesn't show," Harry remarked.

"He doesn't let it," Cedric told him. "At least he tries not to. Anyway, after that, I never wanted to let him down again. I guess that's part of the reason I do everything that I do. The grades, and the Quidditch, being a prefect. And now this. That's not to say that I don't enjoy it myself, I do. But I might not be as driven if it wasn't for fear of disappointing my father. When I started to realize that I was - that I am - gay, it only pushed me further. I think I've always felt like if I have enough accomplishments, if I do well enough, then it'll be okay. My dad will be able to cope with his son being gay. Even if only someday."

Harry wasn’t sure what to say to this.

“Cedric,” he began cautiously, “I know you said earlier that you don’t care what your dad thinks but clearly you do. I said I want to come out, but if you don’t want him to find out about us, it’s okay. We don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Cedric replied assertively.

“But –”

“He’ll deal with it, Harry,” Cedric told him. “He’ll have to.”

As resolute as Cedric seemed, Harry wasn’t willing to give up that easily. And he was going to press the subject until he saw, down the pathway to their left, something aglow in the distance. He stopped, prepared to face whatever might be coming their way. Then the object came into focus.

It wasn’t another obstacle.

It was the Triwizard Cup.

“Cedric…” Harry muttered.

“I don’t want to argue about this,” Cedric said, sounding a lot like a person who was arguing. “He’s going to have to deal with it eventually, it may as well be –”

“No, Cedric,” Harry interrupted, turning his boyfriend to face their quarry. “Look!”

Cedric gaped at the shining trophy.

“It’s the Cup,” he said faintly.

For a single, fleeting moment, from the covetous way he was staring at the trophy, Harry thought Cedric was going to let go of his hand and make a dash for it on his own. But no longer than that, because a second later Cedric beamed gleefully at Harry, and squeezed his hand tighter.

“Come on!” he cried.

The boys ran together toward the Triwizard Cup.

Cedric took the lead, but only by a foot or so. He could’ve easily outstripped Harry, and Harry knew it. He was in better shape, he was taller. Cedric could’ve beaten him to the Cup, if he wanted to. Instead he was going slowly on purpose. Maybe not as slowly as Harry, but slower than he needed so Harry wouldn’t fall behind, like the night they met with Bagman and the other champions when the hedge walls only came up to their knees. In spite of his excitement, and his need to win, Cedric was waiting for Harry.

Something didn’t feel right, though. A dark thought was nagging at Harry. It felt too easy, the Triwizard Cup being right there, exposed, ripe for the taking. After all the things he’d seen in the maze, boggarts and Blast-Ended Skrewts and anti-gravity mist, it was silly to believe the Cup would go unguarded.

So when something large and furry came rushing toward them out of another path, Harry wasn’t really surprised. Terrified, maybe, but not surprised.

“CEDRIC!” he shouted.

The other champion, who had been entirely focused on the prize, and wasn’t accustomed to constant suspicion the way Harry was, hadn’t noticed anything. Harry’s cry drew his attention to the creature, a large spider, skittering toward them. The boys dove in opposite directions to avoid the creature’s grasp.

They fought it with everything they had. When nothing they threw at the monstrous thing seemed to be working, they ducked into a narrow passage to regroup.

“Thoughts?” Harry puffed.

“Other than ‘oh crap, I’m going to be eaten by a giant spider’?” Cedric responded. “Not really.” He stared at the opening the led to the clearing. “You know what this kind of reminds me of?”

“Being attacked by a giant spider reminds you of something?” Harry asked incredulously. “Although, come to think of it, I’ve actually been attacked by giant spiders before, so I guess I shouldn’t talk.”

“It reminds me of our snowball fight on Christmas day,” Cedric elaborated. “Remember? You and me, in that icy fort?”

“I do,” Harry said, a small smile touching the corners of his lips. “You said if we stayed focused, we could win.”

“And we still can,” Cedric told him. “I think what we need to do is hit that monster with as many Stunning Spells as we can. If we get it enough, we might be able to hit a weak point.”

“The Blast-Ended Skrewt!” Harry realized suddenly. “When I got attacked by one earlier, I Stunned it by hitting its underside. Maybe the same will work with the spider. If I can get underneath it –”

“No way,” Cedric argued. “I can’t let you do that, it’s too dangerous. What if it catches you? You’ll be totally exposed!”

“You’ll cover me, remember?” Harry said echoing his words from their battle on Christmas Day. “I’ll go for the underbelly while you distract it.” He placed a hand on Cedric’s shoulder. “I trust you.”

Cedric still didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded in agreement. He bent his head down and gave the other champion a quick kiss.

“For luck,” he whispered.

“Let’s do this,” Harry grinned.

They launched themselves out of the passage. The enormous beast was standing between them and the Cup. Harry raced forward, underneath the spider. Its horrifying frame was illuminated by the flashes of red issuing from Cedric’s wand.

“ _Stupefy!_ ” He heard Cedric cry out behind him. “ _Stupefy!_ ”

The spider teetered, but still wasn’t going down. Harry made it all the way under the creature and raised his wand over his head.

“ _STUPEFY!_ ”

The last spell seemed to do the trick, and slowly the beast began to fall. Of course, in coming up with his plan to cast a Stunning Spell on the giant spider from beneath it, he hadn’t thought to come up with an exit strategy. As Harry saw the monstrous creature falling toward him, instinct took over. He jumped into a flip, like Cedric had taught him months ago. Maybe the kiss truly had brought him luck, or whatever force that kept saving Harry when he got himself into tight scrapes came through again. Either way, he managed to land foot or two shy of the spider and escape being crushed.

He wasn’t certain the same could be said for his boyfriend.

“Cedric?” he called.

No response.

“CEDRIC?”

“Yeah!” Cedric’s voice called back from somewhere on the other side of the spider. “I’m all right! You?”

“I’m fine!” Harry told him.

He made his way around the unconscious spider. He found Cedric on the other side. With the Triwizard Cup. Cedric walked right past it, coming no farther than a foot away, going instead to Harry. Harry smiled, and met him halfway. The two embraced, patting each other on the back.

“Good one, Harry,” Cedric said to him.

“And you,” Harry responded with a laugh. “Still think I’m too young to compete?”

“Harry, I haven’t thought that for a long, long time,” Cedric assured him.

They broke apart, staring at the comatose creature.

“You were attacked by giant spiders before this?” Cedric asked.

“I don’t like to brag about it,” Harry said plainly.

“No, of course not,” Cedric replied.

“It took multiple Stunning Spells being cast simultaneously to take that thing down,” Harry said, disgusted. “How the hell did they expect one champion to get past it?”

“I don’t know,” said Cedric.

“This is the worst game ever,” Harry stated. He glanced at the Cup. “So now what do we do?”

“I don’t know,” Cedric repeated. “I’ve been avoiding dealing with this problem until now. I kind of hoped Fleur or Krum, or even you, would beat me to the Cup, because I don’t want to take it from you.”

“If anyone deserves it, Cedric, it’s you,” Harry told him. “Your friends were right, you are the true champion here. You should take it.”

“I’m not the true champion any more than you are,” Cedric argued. “I accepted help –”

“So did I!” Harry reminded him. “I took the gillyweed from you!”

“And I’m the one who gave it to you after Moody told me to!” Cedric shot back. “And anyway, I still owe you for that Quidditch match two years ago.”

“You think forfeiting the Triwizard Tournament makes up for me falling off my broom?” Harry said in disbelief. “It doesn’t work like that!”

“Well I’m not taking the Cup from you!” Cedric maintained.

His face was set, determined. Harry knew his mind was made up. He glanced at the Cup, glowing against the shadows that the hedges and the spider cast on it. It truly was a thing of beauty, with its ancient, runic inscription, its silvery inlay, and its two ornate handles.

Two handles.

Harry turned to Cedric.

“Both of us,” Harry told him.

Cedric stared at him until, like that afternoon, it dawned on him. He grinned.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Why not?” said Harry. “I don’t recall anyone saying it couldn’t be a tie. And maybe with this, you and I both being the winners –”

“Anyone who’d call us wand-biters after we come out wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if we’re the winners of the Triwizard Tournament,” Cedric finished for him. “You can’t get better publicity than that. Not a bad idea, Potter.”

“I’m glad you approve, Diggory,” Harry replied.

He pulled Cedric toward him by the front of his shirt and kissed him. Then, feeling playful, he planted a long one on Cedric’s neck, too.

“You trying to turn me on, Harry?” Cedric asked.

“You know it,” Harry confirmed.

“Then let’s do this,” Cedric said. “The sooner this tournament is over, the sooner I can take you up to the Room of Requirement and ravish you until dawn.”

“I like the sound of that,” Harry said eagerly.

They moved so they were standing on either side of the trophy. Harry looked at Cedric over the shining cup.

“Love you,” he said.

“Love you too,” Cedric replied.

Then they both reached out and grabbed a handle of the Triwizard Cup. The Cup which, Harry realized a second too late, was not only a cup but a Portkey.

For the second time in his life, Harry was traveling by Portkey with Cedric beside him. He had no idea where it was taking them in its whirlwind of colors and noises. His hand wouldn’t unclench from the handle. He’d been unprepared for this. But at least Cedric was with him. He couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like alone.

They landed hard, Cedric standing and Harry sprawled on the ground. Cedric came over and held out his hand like he’d done at the Quidditch World Cup. Harry didn’t hesitate in taking it this time.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“A creepy graveyard,” Cedric told him.

Taking a look around, Harry saw that, in fact, they were in a creepy graveyard. Thus they were also nowhere near the maze, the Quidditch field, or even Hogwarts. It was still dark out, so they couldn’t have gone all that far. The graveyard’s lawn was unkempt. Far off to one side Harry could make out a small church, and at the other side was a large house on the hillside.

“You’d think they’d’ve told us the Cup was a Portkey,” Cedric said, staring down at the thing. “Especially if it was taking us so far away.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Harry replied as he took in their surroundings. “You really think this is part of the task?”

“I do not,” Cedric answered.

“Yeah, me neither,” said Harry. “Wands at the ready, you think?”

“Probably best,” Cedric said, taking out his.

In the distance, in the darkness, Harry saw something. A figure, moving towards them.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered.

The figure approached. It was wearing a large, hooded robe, preventing them from determining the person’s identity, though Harry guess from their stature that it was a man. And he was holding something, a small bundle of what appeared to be cloth. The hooded figure was holding it delicately, like the thing was alive. He stopped, finally, not more than six feet away, next to an immense headstone made of marble. For a couple seconds, Harry and Cedric stared at the person, completely perplexed by the situation they were in.

Then, suddenly, the moment was broken as Harry’s scar exploded in pain. His whole head was in agony. It was like a tiny dragon was trying to hatch out of his skull, clawing and scorching and biting. Harry fell to the ground, burying his face in his hands and shutting his eyes tightly in distress. He felt Cedric at his side, clutching his shoulders. He knew Cedric was calling his name, asking what was wrong, but Harry could barely comprehend his words through the pain. Farther off, but somehow clearer, he heard a high, cold voice utter a single command.

“ _Kill the spare._ ”

  



	28. Alive

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT**

“Alive”

  


“ _Kill the spare._ ”

The words were like a bucket of ice water being dumped on Harry’s senses. The searing pain was still there, but he was more aware of his surroundings now than he’d been before they were spoken. Because he knew that voice, from his memories and from his nightmares. And he knew who the spare was. He knew what was coming next. And in less time than it takes to blink, Harry made up his mind as to what to do about it.

Despite how quickly things must have happened in the next few moments, to Harry it felt as though they were going in slow motion.

Ignoring the agonizing torment he was in, Harry’s eyes snapped open. He looked at Cedric. His boyfriend, the spare. He was kneeling at Harry’s side, wand still raised. His expression was grim, resolved, with only the smallest trace of uncertainty. He was ready for a fight. But Harry knew, even if Cedric hadn’t figured it out yet, that this was a fight he could not win, no matter how brave he was being.

Their opponent’s wand was already raised as Harry’s muscles tensed, prepared for action, even though they were screaming at him with their soreness, compelling him to stop, to quit, to give up. Harry sprang as he heard the short man screech the most horrifying words any wizard can ever say or hear:

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

The world exploded in the most violent shade of green as Harry felt – felt –

Fell.

  


o             o             o             o             o             o             o

  


  


_Falling._

  


_No, not falling. Floating._

  


_Harry was floating in darkness._

  


_But that wasn’t the right word for it either. To float you needed a body, and you needed the ability to feel. Harry had neither. He had only the vaguest awareness of his surroundings, and the closest word he could use to describe his state was floating. Floating in a vast, seemingly endless, black void._

  


_Only it couldn’t be endless. For in the great far distance, if such a thing could be measured in the dark, there was a tiny pinprick of shimmering green light. And it was growing brighter. Like a beautiful green sun coming up over the horizon. So beautiful. Pulling Harry toward it. Calling his name._

  


**_Harry,_ ** _it called softly. **Harry…**_

  


_That voice. Or rather – as Harry was rapidly coming to understand that nothing was quite what it seemed to be in this place and that it was not really a voice, at least not precisely – that approximation of a voice. It felt... familiar. Something brushed across Harry's awareness, another presence in the darkness._

  


_It was Cedric, Harry realized. Cedric was beside him. Harry would have smiled, but he wasn't sure it was possible under the circumstances. It was Cedric who called his name, not the light. But he could have sworn the light was calling to him, pulling him toward it, like Cedric seemed to be pulling him away from it now._

  


**_What are you doing?_ ** _Harry wondered._

  


**_Taking you back with me,_ ** _Cedric answered._

  


**_But look,_ ** _said Harry. **Look at the light... Do you see it?**_

  


**_Yes,_ ** _Cedric replied. **I see it.**_

  


**_We should go to it,_ ** _Harry insisted._

  


**_I don't think so._ **

  


_This made Harry sad. He could feel the light beckoning to him. It wanted them to come to it. He was certain._

  


**_Why not?_ ** _he asked._

  


**_Because that's not the way back,_ ** _Cedric told him._

  


_Suddenly, Harry felt something else. Something moving in the darkness. Something unpleasant. It made a noise, an angry, indistinct hiss. He couldn't see anything, but then he couldn’t really see Cedric either, more like feel him. Harry reached out, trying to get a better sense of what the unknown entity was. The noise, and whatever had made it, retreated back, further into the dark._

  


**_Is there something else here?_ ** _asked Harry._

  


**_Yes,_ ** _said Cedric._

  


**_What is it?_ **

  


**_I don't know,_ ** _Cedric replied._

  


_Harry looked at the light again. Was it his imagination, or had it gotten larger, and maybe a bit closer?_

  


**_I still don't understand,_ ** _Harry said. **Why can't we go to it?**_

  


**_I'll show you,_ ** _said Cedric._

  


_And his presence brushed against Harry's once more, stronger this time. Abruptly, Harry remembered everything: the tournament, the Cup, the graveyard. The curse. And beyond that, he remembered his life._

  


_All of it._

  


_His parents smiling at him from inside the Mirror of Erised. A thirteen-year-old Hermione handing him a stick of deodorant with a sympathetic half-smile. Watching Alice in Wonderland in the Dursleys' living room. The Weasley twins' fireworks in the sky over the Burrow. Kissing Cedric for the first time outside the champions' tent before the first task. Hagrid presenting him with his first birthday cake, with “Happy Birthday Harry” written in green icing. Cheering with the rest of the Hogwarts student body when Dumbledore announced that final exams were canceled at the end of his second year. Walking home alone after his first day of school when he was younger, refusing to cry over the fact that he didn't have parents to pick him up like the other kids. Ron trading Chocolate Frog cards with him on the Hogwarts Express. Lying on the frozen lake with Cedric. Dumbledore frowning, standing over his Pensieve. Pulling on the emerald green sweater Mrs. Weasley sent him on his first Christmas at Hogwarts. Malfoy jumping onto the back of his broomstick in the middle of a Quidditch match against Slytherin. Ron and Hermione hugging him in the Gryffindor common room. Kissing Cedric's neck right before they took the Triwizard Cup._

  


_All of this and more, so much more, flashed through Harry’s consciousness. It happened in a fraction of a second, yet felt like a lifetime. He could feel all fourteen years, ten months, and twenty-four days of his life all at once._

  


_And now he understood._

  


**_Are you ready to go back?_ ** _Cedric asked._

  


_If he could have, Harry would’ve nodded. Instead, he answered:_

  


**_Yes. I’m ready._ **

  


  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


The next thing Harry was aware of, an instant later, was two distinct voices. And they sounded angry.

“ _WORMTAIL,_ ” the high voice screeched, “ _WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?_ ”

“The fool!” the other man muttered. “The **_fool_**! He jumped in front of the other boy! My lord, I could not stop him!”

“ _Check him, check him!_ ” the high voice called. “ _Check the boy!_ ”

Harry felt his body being yanked up from the ground and shaken. A fat hand slapped him hard across the face. That brought the world back into sharp focus. If he hadn’t already realized his attacker’s identity, the hand with the missing finger would’ve tipped him off. Wormtail was crouched over him, looking very pale and distraught.

“H-he is alive,” Wormtail stuttered. “He is alive, my lord.”

“ _Then do what must be done,_ ” the high voice commanded.

“What about the other one?” Wormtail asked. “He might still be—”

“ _Leave him!_ ” the voice shrieked. “ _Do as I say! We must act quickly!_ ”

Wormtail did as he was told.

He dragged Harry over to the nearby marble headstone. Harry was too weak, from pain in his head and from whatever had happened to him, to fight back. Wormtail conjured some rope and tied Harry to the stone. The rope was so tight that it hurt, cutting off his circulation. Even if he had the strength to struggle, he knew there was no escaping at this point. His head slammed back against the headstone when Wormtail forced a piece of black cloth into his mouth. White spots burst over his vision. When they cleared, he saw that Wormtail had hauled a huge stone cauldron in front of the grave. Harry didn’t know what the man was up to, but whatever it was seemed to terrify him as much as it did Harry from the way Wormtail was fumbling about.

As inconspicuously as he could manage, and as gently considering the state of his head, Harry peeked around. Cedric’s body was lying several feet away.

 _No,_ Harry thought adamantly. _Cedric, not his body. Because he’s not— he’s fine. He’s okay. He’s unconscious. That’s all. He’s fine. He’s going to be fine._

His wand, Harry saw, was in the grass next to Cedric. And not more than ten feet from the boy and the wand was the Triwizard Cup, still sparkling in the darkness. Harry couldn’t get to them. Not yet. First chance he got, if Wormtail slipped up or let him loose for some reason, he’d make a run for it. He was quick. If he could make it to his wand, then to Cedric, maybe he could wake him up. They’d have a better chance with two of them.

But what chance did Harry have, even if he did break loose? He was quick, but Wormtail had a wand. And even if Harry evaded that enemy, the snake circling at his feet would surely be after him. Could he outrun a snake? Probably not.

He wanted to give up, to shut down. He knew what the hideous creature Wormtail carried was, and he understood that whatever the traitor was doing did not mean anything good for Harry. He wanted to let go, to retreat into the recesses of his mind. There he could pretend he was with Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room. Or that he was in the Room of Requirement, with Cedric, or the prefects’ bathroom. He could even imagine they were taking that long drive through the sunny desert he’d once fantasized about.

But when he looked to his right and saw Cedric sprawled out in the grass, he thought about what his boyfriend would do. He knew Cedric wouldn’t give up. And as disgusting and horrifying as whatever Wormtail was doing was, if he survived – or rather, hopefully, when – what he witnessed could be of some use.

So, for Cedric, Harry watched the resurrection of Lord Voldemort.

It wasn’t easy. And a couple of times he almost couldn’t prevent himself from throwing up, especially when Wormtail cut off his own hand. But he did. In only a few minutes’ time, Voldemort was standing before him.

He listened as Voldemort, in his newly-formed flesh, gave Harry a lecture in his genealogy. He watched as the Death Eaters arrived. Harry memorized their names; Avery, Macnair, Nott. No effort was needed to remember the names Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy. He listened to Voldemort’s story, of how he survived, of how he came to be standing before them in the graveyard where his own father was laid to rest. He appeared to delight in telling his tale. After spending so long as spirit and vapors, he was obviously eager to have a captive audience once more. And the Death Eaters hung on his every word. So did Harry, but not in the doting, toadying way that they were.

Although, for all the evil things that Voldemort was, Harry had to admit that he was an amazing storyteller. He reminded Harry of Dumbledore, albeit a perverse version of him. Harry could almost understand how witches and wizards had turned from good to follow him. But almost was as far as it went.

After a fresh bout of pain brought on by Voldemort’s touch, Harry’s head was throbbing so badly that he didn’t entirely process what was happening as he was unbound and given back his wand. It seemed almost too good to be true, that his chance had come, to flee, to escape. Only what could he possibly do, encircled by Death Eaters with Cedric on the outside, facing a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore himself. Harry did his best to stay sharp, and to rise to Voldemort’s challenge.

At the first opportunity he got, before the Dark wizard could hit him with another Cruciatus Curse, Harry dove behind Tom Riddle Sr.’s headstone. He went over his repertoire of defensive spells in his mind. Nothing seemed powerful enough to take down a wizard with the amount of power Voldemort possessed. On the other hand, it wasn’t necessary to beat him, only to escape. Escape and somehow reach Cedric.

“Thinking of your little boyfriend?” Voldemort mocked. “He’s dead, Harry. My servant saw to that. But don’t worry. You’ll be joining him soon. Him, and your father, and your sweet Mudblood mother.”

If Voldemort believed mentioning the deaths of the ones he loved would break Harry’s spirit, he was quite mistaken. All it did was fortify his courage and his conviction to face his enemy head on, like Cedric would, like his father did. Without much further thought, Harry leapt from behind the grave. He cast a Disarming Charm as Voldemort called out the Killing Curse.

And that’s when things got weird.

When the two spells collided and the anomaly began, Harry actually felt the first bit of hope since he found himself in the foreign graveyard. He was terrified, yeah, and confused, sure. But seeing that Voldemort was as scared and baffled as him bolstered Harry’s confidence greatly. And when Harry’s wand beat Voldemort’s in their struggle – though how he wasn’t sure – his hope skyrocketed. And so did Harry’s confusion as the shades began emerging from the other man’s wand. First there was the silver hand that had been conjured for Wormtail, and then came an old man Harry thought he might’ve recognized dimly from a dream he’d long since forgotten about. After that came a woman, who Harry reckoned to be an older version of the Bertha Jorkins he’d seen in Dumbledore’s Pensieve. It was then that Harry realized what these ghostly figures were – the shadows of spells from Lord Voldemort’s wand. In the case of the old man and Bertha, it was his victims. But where was Cedric? If there was no image of him, did that mean…

Before Harry could dwell on what Cedric’s absence may have meant, he saw his mother appear, followed soon after by his father. They were more and yet less real than he’d remembered them from the Mirror of Erised. They explained that they could buy him time to get back to the Cup, and that it would take him back to Hogwarts. Harry had so many questions, and so much to say but he knew there was no time for that now. He simply nodded when asked if he understood, and broke the wands’ connection when told.

Later, when he looked back on the night’s events, Harry would find he had very little memory of what occurred between breaking the connection and reaching Cedric. His sprint was fueled by adrenaline and fear and self-preservation. Harry dove to Cedric’s side and latched onto his arm. It felt cold, but then it was cold in the graveyard. He wanted to check for a pulse, but it would’ve wasted valuable seconds.

As Voldemort closed in, Harry pointed his wand and Summoned the Triwizard Cup to him with all the skill he and Hermione had worked for hours to give him the night before the first task. Instantly the cup was in his hand, and he was gone.

Harry’s senses overloaded as his surroundings changed from the darkness and the night sounds and the distant Death Eaters’ jeers in the graveyard to the rushing colors and whirling noises of the Portkey journey, only to be deposited face down on the Quidditch field, with the sweet, earthy smell of grass filling his nostrils and the roar of the crowds in his ears. With the physical and mental damage that had already been done to him, the sudden shifts were overwhelming. This time Harry did throw up. After that, things became a little more focused. His fists were still clenched tightly, his right around his wand and the cup, and his left around Cedric’s arm. Harry flopped onto his back and stared up at the sky. He briefly remembered the field he’d made the Room of Requirement conjure back in January. Now he and Cedric were lying in the grass under starry summer canopy once more. A small, unexpected laugh bubbled up in Harry’s throat as he thought this was possibly the least ideal way he would’ve wanted to repeat the experience.

They were quickly set upon by a crowd of teachers and officials, all panicked and confused and, in the case of Cornelius Fudge, angry. Harry let go of the cup. He didn’t need that anymore, didn’t wish to see it ever again. They could smash it to bits for all he cared. Harry continued to hold onto Cedric, though. After all, why shouldn’t he?

“It’s him,” Harry coughed out as soon as he saw Dumbledore. There was still a bit of stomach acid burning in his throat. “Voldemort. He’s back.”

Dumbledore knelt on the ground beside him, grabbing Harry by the shoulders. He looked at Harry discerningly, like he had the night Harry told him they’d found Mr. Crouch jabbering madly at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Something in Harry’s face must’ve confirmed the truth for him, because his expression turned grim as he slowly paled.

“My God – Diggory!” Fudge cried, standing above them. “Dumbledore! Is he dead?”

Harry listened for an answer, but Dumbledore didn’t give one. The headmaster glanced at Cedric, and then down at the boy’s wrist, which Harry was still holding. Seeing this led his gaze to turn back up to Harry once more.

“Harry, let go of him,” Fudge ordered.

“We took the Cup together,” Harry explained. To Dumbledore, not Fudge. “It was my idea.”

“Harry, you can’t do any more to help him now,” Dumbledore whispered gently. “Let Cedric go.”

“Don’t want to,” said Harry, fighting back tears.

“Please, Harry. I promise you will see him again, but for now I need you to **_let go_**.”

Rather than let go, a feat Harry didn’t think he could bring himself to do on his own, he allowed Dumbledore to pry his hand from Cedric’s arm. Dumbledore then lifted Harry and set him on his feet, which brought on a second wave of nausea for the boy. The bright lights and the moving, uproarious crowd disoriented him all over again, not to the point where he needed to throw up but enough that he couldn’t bring himself to argue as Professor Moody led him away. Harry was actually grateful to be taken from the mass hysteria of the field. His mind began to clear again. He thought nothing of answering Moody’s many questions, though something told Harry to keep what happened when Wormtail cast the Killing Curse on him and Cedric to himself, at least for now.

They arrived at Moody’s office in no time at all, or what felt like no time to Harry given the state that he was in. He drank the peppery liquid Moody forced on him without complaint, though his throat tightened a bit when he thought how Cedric would’ve probably enjoyed the taste of it. Harry’s vision cleared further after finishing it. He was able to answer Moody’s questions more succinctly now. As he did, something fluttering outside the office's window caught his eye. It was the highest sail of Durmstrang’s ship, flapping in the breeze. Suddenly Harry was reminded again of the night that Krum and Cedric were attack, and what Moody had said then.

“Professor,” Harry said, turning to face Moody, “that night, by the Forbidden Forest. You said you saw me and Professor Dumbledore from your office window. But the windows in this office face the lake and the Quidditch field. In fact, the forest is on the opposite side of the castle from here.”

For a moment, Moody appeared taken aback by the statement, like he was trying to think of a response. Then, when he couldn’t come up with one, a sinister smirk spread slowly across his face.

“You really are a thick little queer, aren't you, Potter?” he snarled. “All these things I've done; helping you in the maze, giving you advice all throughout the tournament, making your swotty boyfriend Diggory cheat for you, putting your name in the bloody Goblet of Fire! And how is it you finally catch on? A lie about a stupid window!”

“What are you talking about?” Harry demanded, baffled. “You didn't put my name in the Goblet! You couldn't have!”

“Oh, I assure you, Potter, I did.”

He wanted to ask how, how someone like Alastor Moody, famed Auror from the height of Voldemort’s reign, could deliver him into the hands of the very Dark wizard he’d fought so hard against. But that didn’t what matter, not at the moment. The answer wouldn’t help him, even if his foe did give it. Harry’s eyes darted to the door behind Moody.

“Ah-ah, Potter,” he taunted, wagging his wand threateningly. “Not getting away this time.”

So Harry folded his arms, trying to appear braver than he felt. That was hard, considering he was trapped in a room with an older, much more experienced wizard gone mad. He forced himself not to panic. He’d faced Lord Voldemort reborn not more than an hour ago and survived. He could face this.

 _My father wouldn’t panic,_ he thought. _Cedric wouldn’t panic._

“You knew about me and Cedric?” Harry asked, hoping to at least distract the man, if not get some information.

“I've known ever since that day I called you into my office last November,” Moody told him. “When I caught the two of you flirting in the Charms corridor. Not that I didn't have an inkling before then. Even someone without a magical eye could see you for what you are. Poofter Potter. You and that Pretty-Boy Diggory. I owe a lot of my triumph to him, you know. I couldn't have done it so easily without his unwitting assistance. An easy mark, that one. Not like you, so bloody stubborn. The hardest part of all this was helping you get by without making it obvious what I was doing. So I went through Diggory. I gave him that tip about the egg, knowing he'd go right to you with it.

“But then you two had your little lovers' tiff, and it all nearly went to shit. So I applied some pressure to Diggory. I asked him if he thought you'd come up with anything yet, and he informed me that the two of you weren't speaking. As if I couldn’t figure that out for myself from the way you both’d been moping around for days. I told him, 'Potter needs looking out for in all this, Diggory. He needs you right now.' And I slipped him the gillyweed I’d taken from Snape's office, in a bag and sealed magically, for freshness. I wasn't sure the rule-abiding wand-biter'd go for it. He must've really cared about you. Too bad for you he's dead now.”

Harry's mind was reeling. He ignored the last bit Moody said. He couldn't think about that, not right now. He focused on the part before it, about the gillyweed, instead. He'd never found out if Cedric had actually stolen it for him. He never wanted to ask, in case it was true. At least now he knew it wasn’t. But what about the boomslang skin? Snape had said that was stolen, as well. Was Moody to blame for both? And boomslang skin, that was used primarily in Polyjuice Potion.

“Are you even the real Mad-Eye Moody?” Harry asked flatly.

“At least for the next few minutes,” the man chuckled.

“You're not going to get away with this,” Harry informed him.

“Awfully cheeky for someone who's about to die,” Moody spat.

“I faced Lord Voldemort tonight, after watching the person I love get –” He let the sentence remain incomplete. “I faced him, and I survived. Do you really think I'm afraid of you?”

“You survived the Dark Lord by chance! A mistake!”

“Then I guess there've been a lot of mistakes over the years,” Harry said. “Even when I was a baby he couldn't stop me. Maybe you Death Eaters have got the wrong idea. Maybe your Dark Lord isn't all that powerful after all.”

He was saying whatever came into his head now, not filtering it at all. His hope was that if he said the right thing, got the man angry enough, maybe he’d let his guard down. The angry part worked, anyway. Moody, or rather whoever Moody really was, was seething. Both his natural and magical eyes were fixed on Harry now, and his face was becoming redder by the moment.

“BLASPHEMY!” he gritted out. “How dare you insult the Dark Lord's power! What are you? You're nothing! You're an insect compared to his power, his majesty! You're no hero. You're a sinner! You and that filthy old codger, Dumbledore. You're disgusting, the both of you! You're unfit opponents for the Dark Lord!”

“Maybe you’re right,” said Harry. “Maybe we are.” He looked the possible imposter square in the eyes. “And doesn’t it just kill you that we beat him anyway?”

“I’LL KILL **_YOU_**!” the man growled.

His wand arm was shaking. Harry braced himself, ready to dive. He’d dodged the Killing Curse at least twice that night already. Perhaps it’d be the third that got him, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.

It turned out that his concern was unwarranted, because a split-second later there was a loud blast behind him. From the bits of wood that flew past him, Harry gathered that it was the office door bursting inward. The explosion was so loud that Harry almost didn’t hear the accompanying bellow of “ _STUPEFY!_ ” Moody dropped like a stone. Whirling about to face the destroyed door, Harry found Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape standing there.

After this, things began happening very quickly; the discovery of Moody locked in his own trunk, the revelation that the Alastor Moody that Harry knew was in fact not the real Alastor Moody, the confession of Barty Crouch Jr. about his parents’ deaths and his own involvement in Harry’s kidnapping. It was a lot of information to get in such a short period of time, but at least things were starting to make sense. Harry understood now the how and the why of what led him to the graveyard that night. Except now that he had those answers, all Harry could think about were the remaining questions: what had happened when he tried to save Cedric, and when he dueled Voldemort? And where, and in what state, was Cedric now?

His interrogation in the headmaster’s office only shed light on a few of these queries, though it was of some comfort to find Sirius in there waiting for him. Harry told them everything. He considered keeping the part about the darkness and the green light a secret from Dumbledore as he had from Moody, or rather Crouch posing as him. It was only a passing thought, though, and one that Harry promptly dismissed. If anyone could come up with an explanation for it, he knew it would be Dumbledore. But, to Harry’s disappointment, Dumbledore didn’t respond to this part of his tale, the man’s expression remaining frustratingly unreadable as Harry spoke. The only time it changed was when Harry mentioned the other presence. At this, the headmaster’s eyebrows raised briefly before lowering once more. Beyond that he offered nothing, except to point out the obvious by saying that the curse clearly did not work before asking Harry to continue.

So Harry pressed on, explaining in as great detail as he could remember the ritual that returned Voldemort’s body. He told Dumbledore about the Death Eaters, and the duel, and the curious effect their wands had on each other. For this, Dumbledore did have answers, and explained the process of Priori Incantatem. Harry swallowed before noting that there had not been an image of Cedric like there was of the old man and Bertha Jorkins.

“No, there wouldn’t be,” Dumbledore murmured.

His words didn’t do much to comfort Harry. He wanted to ask what Dumbledore meant, but wasn’t sure the man would answer, or, at worst, that it would be one Harry didn’t want to hear it. His confidence about Cedric’s current condition was starting to grow, however. If he wasn’t fine, surely Dumbledore or someone would’ve mentioned something by now. Harry continued, concluding his narrative with what happened with Crouch before Dumbledore and the other professors came to his rescue. Here, again, he considered leaving out certain details – namely what the Death Eater had said about him and Cedric – and decided once more not to hold back anything. He saw no point to it. Dumbledore exhibited no shock at the revelation that Harry and Cedric were together. Perhaps mild surprise that Harry was being so candid about it, but nothing more than that.

“Professor,” Harry said, chest heaving, unable to contain the question any longer. “I have to ask. About Cedric. Is he –?”

“Cedric is fine, Harry,” Dumbledore quickly told him. “I should have said something sooner, and for that I am truly sorry. You’ll understand if my mind is a bit out of sorts this evening. And I did not realize the – the extent of your friendship. He’s still unconscious, but we’ve had Healers look him over and by all accounts he’s going to be fine.”

Harry struggled to contain his emotions. He didn’t want to cry in front of the two men he respected most in this world, but now that he had confirmation, at last, that Cedric was alive, he found himself overcome with relief and joy and, oddly, sorrow, which he knew was over the fact that all of this even happened in the first place. Harry looked down at his hands and clenched his teeth, biting down on the emotion. His shoulders were shaking. Unexpectedly, Sirius bent down and embraced Harry. Harry hugged him back, allowing his godfather’s comfort to ease his pain. After several minutes, Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“I think,” he said, “that it might be time for Mr. Potter to get some rest. Harry, as I’ve already said, and will no doubt say many times more, you have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight. You have dealt with more in one night than many grown wizards do in a lifetime and, not only did you survive, you flourished. You have much to be proud of.”

Releasing his godfather, Harry nodded. Dumbledore escorted him and Sirius, in his dog form, to the hospital wing. Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione and Bill were all there waiting for him. The headmaster insisted that they not ask him any questions, and for that Harry was grateful.

Madam Pomfrey led Harry down the ward to an empty bed. On their left they passed the real Alastor Moody, disheveled and pallid and blissfully unconscious. Harry’s heart shot into his throat when he saw that to their right, lying in bed wearing a pair of hospital wing pajamas, was Cedric. He, too, was clearly asleep, his head lolled to the left so his chin rested on his shoulder.

“Is he all right?”

“He will be,” Madam Pomfrey assured him

Harry wanted to rush over to Cedric, to wrap his arms around him, but he knew she wouldn’t let him. It was enough for now to see him, and to know for certain that he was okay. Harry changed into the pajamas Madam Pomfrey gave him, climbed into bed, and made no objection to drinking the potion she provided.

Finally, as the potion took effect and Harry rapidly fell asleep, he allowed himself to breathe easily for the first time since taking the Triwizard Cup.

Cedric was alive.

  



	29. Come What May

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE**

“Come What May”

  


The hospital wing was dark by the time Harry woke.

He dared to hope, if only for a moment, that the events he remembered from the graveyard and after were only some fever dream induced by the maze rather than a reality. He would go down to the Great Hall in the morning and learn that Krum or Fleur or, as he secretly hoped all along, Cedric had won the Triwizard Tournament. Everybody would be fine, and Lord Voldemort would not have returned. As much as Harry wanted to believe this delusion, regrettably, the moment he moved the slightest bit he could feel his injuries twinge, injuries he knew he’d sustained in the graveyard and the battle with the Dark wizard.

It was real. Voldemort was back. And, once again, Harry faced him and survived.

The Boy Who Lived Yet Again blinked, his eyes adjusting to the hospital wing’s darkness. The bed curtains were opened. He looked over at the bed where the real Alastor Moody lay. He was sound asleep, breathing heavily. Then Harry turned his head to the left, to check on Cedric in the bed next to his. However, the bed beside his was empty and between it and Harry’s sat a figure, reclining into the shadows.

“Who’s there?” Harry asked of the darkened figure.

“It’s only me,” a voice answered steadily, reassuringly. His voice carrying the slightest hint of a joke, he leaned into the light and asked, “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Cedric’s face was as tired and care-worn as the first time he’d spoken those words to Harry, with a smile that was genuine if a bit strained. He wore a mustard-yellow terrycloth bathrobe over his hospital pajamas.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he said.

His smile got a little wider, a little easier. Harry nodded, and the motion tugged at the swollen lump in his throat. He didn’t want to cry, but the overwhelming sense of relief he felt seeing Cedric sitting there, smiling, alive, gave Harry no other choice. Cedric’s face clouded over with concern.

“I was s-so w-worried,” Harry gasped.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Cedric whispered. “It’s okay!” He squeezed Harry’s hand. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“Not m-me,” Harry said between sobs. “You. I w-was so w-worried ab-about you.”

In one smooth, graceful movement, Cedric climbed into the hospital bed with Harry. He pulled the younger boy close and stroked his back. Harry cried into Cedric’s chest, taking sanctuary in the strong, comforting arms wrapped around him. For twenty minutes he lets all the emotions, all the fear and anger and grief and confusion and relief, pour out of him in the form of salty tears until the front of Cedric’s pajamas was soaked. After he finished, Harry felt strangely empty, with a mild headache that his sobbing had given him.

“I promised I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you again,” Harry sniffed.

“You didn’t,” Cedric insisted. “Harry, it’s not your fault.”

Harry wasn’t so sure about that. It certainly felt like his fault when he saw Cedric lying there, motionless, in the overgrown grass of the cemetery. And yet here he was, holding Harry, speaking to him, showing him clearly that he, Cedric, was safe.

The older boy turned his head slightly, causing the moonlight they sat in to ripple over his features. A strong beam fell on his neck. There was a blemish there that Harry hadn’t noticed while Cedric was holding him. At first he thought it was dirt, or maybe ink. Then he realized what it truly was: a scar, in the shape of a lightning bolt. The same scar that Harry’d been given when he was a baby.

The same scar that was on Harry’s forehead was now on the left side of Cedric’s neck.

“Cedric,” Harry breathed, staring at it. “Your neck.”

Cedric bit his lip gently.

“I know,” he said, his eyes downcast. “Dumbledore showed it to me earlier with a mirror.”

“But…how?” he asked, baffled.

“I don’t know,” Cedric responded. “Dumbledore couldn’t explain that part. I talked with him, told him everything I could remember from the maze and the graveyard. He couldn’t give me an answer.”

He was clearly bothered by it. Harry understood. When he learned his scar was magical in nature, and not the result of a car crash, it bothered him at first, too. At least his had been with him since he was a baby. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have one appear all of a sudden at seventeen. Harry reached up and traced it with his fingers. It was exactly like his, razor thin and almost more of an N with the parallel lines elongated than a real lightning bolt. Harry originally told himself it looked like one when he was younger because that felt much cooler. Dudley used to insist that it was an N, that it was a brand to let people know he was a queer; N for Nancy. Yet another reason for the lightning bolt theory.

“It’s kind of sexy,” Harry grinned.

“Shut up,” Cedric said, smiling shyly.

“No, really, it is,” Harry insisted. “I never thought about it when it was my own, but on you? Definitely sexy.”

“On you, too,” Cedric replied.

He still looked uncertain about it, though.

“You’re afraid of it,” Harry blurted out.

He didn’t know where the thought came from, it sort of just popped out of him. Perhaps it was because he now knew Cedric so well. Harry could tell that he was afraid of the scar, and what repercussions it may have.

“A little,” Cedric admitted uncomfortably. “I asked Dumbledore if he thought it was like yours. He said that it might be similar, but we won’t know for sure until some time has passed.”

“It’s not like it’s something terrible,” Harry told him, prickling a bit at the idea that his scar was harmful.

“I didn’t say it was,” Cedric responded. “But c’mon, Harry. The scar pains, the vision-y dream things. I’m not one of Rita Skeeter’s gullible readers, but I’m not stupid, either. I know they’re related to your scar. You can’t say that’s not a little frightening. I don’t even know how I got it!”

“Probably the same way I did,” said Harry angrily, “when my mum protected me from the Killing Curse, like I did for you!”

Cedric frowned at him, confused.

“Wha—what do you mean, like you did for me?” he questioned.

“You don’t remember?”

“I remember taking the Cup with you,” Cedric told him, “and landing in the creepy graveyard. You suggested we have our wands ready, and I agreed with you. You saw someone coming, someone wearing robes. And then when they got close enough you fell over and started screaming. I didn’t know what was wrong, I felt so helpless. Then this voice, I think it was the thing the person was carrying, it said something, but I don’t remember what it was. All I remember is you screaming and this – this flash of green light. Then everything went dark.”

“‘Kill the spare,’” Harry repeated hollowly. “The man was Wormtail – you know, Peter Pettigrew. And the thing he was carrying was Voldemort. The voice you heard was him ordering Wormtail to kill you.”

“Dumbledore told me about them being there,” Cedric relayed. “He didn’t tell me that he was ordering Pettigrew to…” His eyes widened. “Oh Merlin, he did it, didn’t he? Pettigrew cast the Killing Curse on me.”

“He tried to,” Harry replied quietly.

Cedric stared at him as the pieces Harry relayed to him slowly became a whole picture. Then he gasped, loudly, making Harry cringe.

“You jumped,” said Cedric. “I remember now. You tried to push me out of the way!”

“Maybe,” Harry confessed.

“Merlin’s ruddy beard, Harry!” Cedric cried. “What on earth were you thinking! You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

“I **_wasn’t_** thinking!” Harry argued. “I was **_reacting_**! I couldn’t let him kill you!”

“It was stupid,” he said.

“Yeah? You’re welcome!” Harry shot back.

Running a hand through his hair, Cedric sighed in frustration. He rubbed the back of his head, frowning.

“You’re right,” Cedric told him. “I’m sorry. And thank you. I’m not saying it wasn’t stupid, but… I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

“You’d better,” said Harry, nudging him in the ribs. Then, more seriously, he asked, “What do you remember from, er, after Wormtail tried to curse you?”

“It’s all kind of hazy now,” Cedric said. “I remember this – this darkness. You were there, too, only it wasn’t **_you_** exactly. And there was a light. And you wanted to go to it, but I knew I couldn’t let you do that. You had to come back with me. So you did.” He looked at Harry. “Did that – was that real?”

Harry nodded.

“I think so,” he answered.

“Next thing I remember after that,” Cedric continued, “is waking up in the hospital wing. Professor McGonagall and the Minister had come in shouting about a dementor and Barty Crouch. From what I could gather, it performed the Dementor’s Kiss on him.”

“What!” Harry cried, sitting up a little straighter. “The dementor kissed Barty Crouch?? But it was him! He’s the one who did it!”

“I know,” said Cedric. “Dumbledore filled me in after the fact.”

He proceeded to tell Harry what went on while Harry was asleep. Fudge had insisted, a bit cowardly in Harry’s opinion, on being escorted by a dementor to his examination of Barty Crouch, Jr. And the dementor pounced on the younger Crouch the instant it was in the room with him. The Minister of Magic then refused to believe Voldemort was back, maintaining that the whole fiasco had simply been a plot by Crouch Jr. to murder his father. When Dumbledore calmly asked Fudge to explain what part Harry and Cedric being taken by Portkey to a graveyard played in his tale, the Minister replied that there was no evidence those events had taken place at all, and suggested that perhaps Harry had attacked Cedric himself while inside the maze and Confunded the other boy to keep his mouth shut. This had set off Cedric, who vehemently argued in Harry’s defense. But apparently there was no convincing the Cornelius Fudge, and he left after irreverently dumping the Triwizard Tournament winnings on the table between the two winners’ beds.

“He said there was supposed to be a ceremony,” Cedric said, pointing out the bag of gold on the table. “But, circumstances being what they are…”

“Maybe it’s for the best then,” Harry muttered. “I would hate to stand up in front of everyone like that. What happened after he left?”

Cedric continued his story, recounting how Dumbledore began doling out orders to nearly everyone in the room. He even had Sirius reveal himself in front of Mrs. Weasley. It saddened Harry to learn that Dumbledore sent his godfather away again, even if it was for a noble cause. The only consolation he had was that, before he left, Sirius had instructed Cedric to look after Harry while he was away. At least Sirius had come to accept Cedric as his boyfriend. After everyone but the Weasleys and Hermione had cleared out – his own parents, he had explained, were speaking with Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff House – Dumbledore sat down beside Cedric’s bed and had the boy tell him his version of the night’s events. Cedric did, and had his own questions answered as well. It was then that Dumbledore had shown Cedric the scar on his neck.

“Do they know how it happened?” Harry asked. “How was Mood- Crouch able to turn the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey?”

“I heard Dumbledore explaining it to Mrs. Weasley,” Cedric told him. “The Cup was actually **_supposed_** to be a Portkey. It was meant to bring the winning champion to the front of the maze. But there was a second Portus spell put over the first one, which is what brought us to the graveyard. The impostor must’ve cast it when he put the Cup in the center of the maze. That’s how it took us back. Once we used the Cup, and arrived at the graveyard, the second spell dissipated, and the Portkey reverted back to the first Portus spell.”

Suddenly Harry remembered something.

“They knew,” he realized.

“Who?”

“My parents,” Harry said. “They’re the ones that told me to get back to the Cup, to the Portkey. They said it would take me back. How could they have known that?”

“I don’t know,” Cedric replied.

“This far too complicated for me right now,” said Harry, rubbing his face. “Let’s discuss it on a night that we haven’t both just died.”

“We didn't die, Harry,” Cedric winced.

“If we didn't die then what did happen?” Harry asked.

For this, Cedric had no answer. It was then that Harry realized he was playing with his silver Snitch necklace through his pajama top, as he was often prone to do absentmindedly. It had become an unconscious habit of Harry's, when he was nervous or bored or contemplative. He pulled the locket out from inside his shirt and stared at it.

“You said at Christmas,” Harry murmured, “that there was a death clause on this.”

He held the silver locket up for Cedric to see. The Hufflepuff boy appeared hesitant.

“I don't know, Harry.”

“I'm trying it,” Harry replied.

Then, before Cedric could stop him, or he could stop himself, Harry pressed the small button that opened the silver Snitch. Nothing happened. Harry swallowed and offered the locket to Cedric. He still seemed nervous, but didn't refuse it. Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, he pressed the button, the same as Harry. Again, nothing happened. He passed it back to Harry, who tucked the Snitch under his shirt once more.

“Well,” Harry said heavily, “that's that then.”

“But that doesn't necessarily mean that we died,” Cedric reasoned. “Maybe whatever happened threw off the Snitch's charm or something. After all, we were hit by the Killing Curse.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, though he wasn't sure that he actually agreed. “I just don't understand how we're **_alive_**. Don't get me wrong, I'm not disappointed we survived, but-”

“We really shouldn't have,” Cedric finished for him. “I don't know. I don’t even think Dumbledore understands. I asked him, and he just… He kept looking at me, like I was something he’d never seen before. Something… impossible. I think, whatever this is, it’s something new.”

“Oh, good,” Harry quipped. “Because there’s nothing I love more than being a Something New.”

“At least you’re not a Something New alone, this time,” Cedric pointed out. “Whatever’s happened, whatever this is, we’re in it together. Come what may, it’s you and me, from now on.”

“Promise?” Harry asked.

“You know I do,” Cedric grinned.

With a heavy, tension-releasing sigh, Harry leaned into Cedric’s chest again. Cedric wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, not so tight as to be uncomfortable, but tight enough that they both felt a little safer.

“Gotta say,” Cedric murmured, “I never thought we’d be spending the night of our seven-month anniversary in the hospital wing.”

“With Professor Moody only a few beds down,” Harry added.

As if to punctuate this point, the ex-Auror gave out a very loud snore. The boys looked at each other, stifling a fit of giggles.

“All things considered, it could be worse,” said Harry. “At least we’re spending it together.”

Cedric nodded in agreement before resting his chin delicately on the top of Harry’s head.

They sat in silence, in the dark, for a long time. That suited Harry fine. It was nice to simply be with Cedric, lost in his own thoughts. The soft grays, whites, and blues of the darkened hospital wing were soothing. As much as Harry loved colors, after his night of violent, disorienting images and sounds, he definitely preferred a lack of color for once. After a while, the stillness was broken when he heard Cedric humming. Harry could feel Cedric’s throat and chest vibrating.

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

“Just a song,” Cedric told him. “It’s from an old Muggle movie with someone named Audrey Hepburn. My mum loved her movies when she was a girl.”

“Your mum likes Muggle movies?” Harry verified, astonished.

“Oh yeah,” Cedric confirmed. “Not every witch and wizard is completely clueless about Muggle culture. And anyway, her mum was a Muggle.”

“I never knew that,” Harry marveled. “Even after all this time, I still have a lot to learn about you, Cedric Diggory.”

“Thank goodness for that,” said Cedric. “We wouldn’t want to know **_everything_** about each other. Not yet, anyway. That’d take all the fun out of being together.”

“Good point,” Harry concurred. “So what was it?”

“What was what?”

“The song you were singing!” Harry clarified.

“Oh! It’s called ‘Moon River’,” Cedric told him.

“Do you know the words?” Harry asked coyly.

Cedric moved his head so that his lips were pressed close to the younger boy’s ear. Harry could feel the slight smile on his boyfriend’s lips. Then Cedric sang:

“ _Moon River, wider than a mile, I'm crossing you in style someday. Oh dream maker, you heart breaker, wherever you're going, I'm going your way._

 _“Two drifters, off to see the world. There's such a lot of world to see. We're after the same rainbow's end, waiting 'round the bend - my huckleberry friend, Moon River and me._ ”

The song washed over Harry. Its melody and lyrics were soothing, calming. As Cedric sang, Harry began to feel his exhaustion returning.

“You sh’ld prob’ly go back t’ y’r own bed,” Harry mumbled groggily.

“I will,” Cedric told him. “I’m just gonna wait til you’re asleep, okay?”

Harry grunted feebly in response. The last thing he heard before falling asleep was Cedric still humming to himself.

  



	30. Where Do We Go From Here + Epilogue

  


a lack of color

  


**CHAPTER THIRTY**

“Where Do We Go From Here”

  


For the second time in a twenty-four hour window, Harry Potter found himself waking up in the arms of Cedric Diggory.

The hospital wing was brightly sunlit, with its white bed sheets and curtains all glowing pristinely. The brightness hurt Harry’s eyes when he first opened them. He could hear Madam Pomfrey bustling about in her office. Over in his own bed, Moody was still asleep. Harry wondered if they were intentionally keeping him asleep for a while, considering all he’d been through. Harry peered up at Cedric, who was still sleeping.

Now that it was daytime, Harry could see the newly-formed scar on Cedric’s neck much better. He was right; it really was an exact duplicate of his own. The only difference was its location. Harry felt compelled to touch it, his fingers drawn to it like they were magnetized. He reached up and grazed it gently with his thumb.

“Tickles,” Cedric murmured softly, his eyes still shut.

“Sorry,” Harry said. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’uz already awake,” Cedric informed him. “Jus’ taking my time.” His eyelids lifted, revealing a sliver of his eyes. He made a confused face. “You’re in my bed.”

“Technically you’re in my bed,” Harry corrected. “I don’t think you made it back to your own last night.”

“How’s Madam Pomfrey not throwing a fit?”

“I dunno, she’s in her office,” said Harry. “And either way I wasn’t about to ask.”

“Don’t blame you for that,” Cedric said, rubbing his face. He looked at Harry, fully awake now, or at least mostly, and smiled. “Morning.”

“G’morning,” Harry said back. “How’re you feeling?”

“Pretty good, actually,” Cedric replied. He shifted on the bed and immediately grimaced. “Ooh. Scratch that. I guess dying, or nearly dying, or whatever it is that happened, isn’t so easily recovered from after all.”

“I can think of a way to make you feel better,” Harry told him slyly.

“Oh can you?” Cedric asked, catching Harry’s drift and tilting his face to meet the other boy’s.

Unfortunately, the instant their lips pressed together was the same one that Madam Pomfrey decided to emerge from her office at last.

“You two!” Madam Pomfrey called. “I’ll have none of that in here. This is a place of healing, not fornicating.”

“We weren’t fornicating!” Harry argued, flushing with embarrassment.

“And no more bed-hopping, Mr. Diggory,” she scolded. “The only reason I didn’t wake you was that, in light of what you both went through last night, I thought you should remain undisturbed. Do not for one moment think I’m going to make the same allowance again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry and Cedric said in unison.

Cedric climbed out of Harry’s bed and stretched. He shuffled the short distance to his own bed, where he promptly plopped back down. His brow furrowed as he looked at the nightstand.

“Madam Pomfrey, there was a watch here among my things,” he said. “Did – could someone have taken it?”

Madam Pomfrey stiffened noticeably at the question.

“It’s possible,” she replied. Then, as though she wasn’t entirely willing to, she added, “Your parents were in earlier.”

Cedric’s eyes bulged.

“My – my parents?” he repeated.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “When they saw you were – asleep, they decided to leave without waking you. Rather, I think your father decided. It’s possible that he might have taken it before they left.”

Her tone was as kind as Harry had ever heard it. And from the uncomfortable look on her face, Harry could tell she knew it was more than just possible that Cedric’s father had taken the watch.

“Possible,” Cedric echoed, his voice flat. “Right. Thank you.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry said quietly to him. “Your parents clearly saw us, and you’re upset about a watch?”

“It was his watch, Harry,” Cedric explained. “It belonged to my father. And his before him, and so on. He gave it to me on my seventeenth birthday.”

“And you think he took it back?” asked Harry. “But why would he – oh.”

All at once it made sense to him. Cedric continued to stare at the nightstand as if he was trying to will the watch to reappear there. But even a wizard couldn’t use magic to return what its absence represented. Harry wished there was something he could do or say. He knew how important Cedric’s parents were to him, and felt terrible thinking Cedric’s relationship with them might be ruined because of their son’s relationship with him. Maybe if he told them they hadn’t seen what they thought they’d seen, that it was all a misunderstanding. Harry didn’t want to keep hiding, but he couldn’t let Cedric risk losing his parents either.

He was on the verge of saying this when Cedric lifted his head and looked at Harry for the first time since learning his mother and father saw them in bed together.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he said, as if sensing what Harry was thinking. “I haven’t changed my mind about coming out. I knew my parents, or at least my father, would have a – a negative reaction. It’s upsetting to learn I was right, but that doesn’t mean I want to keep lying to them about who I really am. They’re going to have to deal with it eventually, and I’m tired of hiding.”

“Okay,” said Harry. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m not,” Cedric admitted. “But it is what I want to do.”

“Okay then.”

Cedric sighed, reclining on the bed.

“That’s so not how I would’ve preferred to come out to them,” he said.

“It’ll be okay,” Harry told him.

“Promise?” Cedric asked meekly.

Harry sat on the bed beside his ailing boyfriend. He’d seen Cedric worried or concerned before, but rarely like this. It reminded Harry of the night they broke up back in February. Cedric looked more like a brokenhearted little boy than the strong young man Harry was used to. Harry knew he was in no position to be making promises about anything, least of all the Diggorys’ level of tolerance. Yet Harry also knew that, even if they never accepted Cedric, he would do everything in his power to make his boyfriend happy anyway.

“You know I do,” Harry replied, combing a hand through Cedric’s hair with half-hearted smile.

And Cedric, however feebly, smiled back.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


The boys were confined to the hospital wing the rest of the day, and most of the one following. Their injuries were minor, but Harry suspected that they were being held there not only for physical mending but to keep them from the prying eyes and probing questions of their peers. They saw no reason to complain. With Moody asleep around the clock, they had the whole wing to themselves. Ron and Hermione visited during their breaks on Friday, and spent the bulk of Saturday with them. Cho stopped by on Saturday as well, but didn’t stay long. Harry assumed this was due to the presence of Ron and Hermione. He hoped she’d get over her aversion to his best friends by the time the next school year began. He’d grown quite fond of her during their pre-Ball dance lessons, in a strictly friendly way of course.

Although Harry and Cedric were both discharged in time to make dinner on Saturday, neither was ready to face the Great Hall, at least not yet. Reluctantly, they said their goodbyes in the hospital wing and headed to their separate dormitories. It was hard, parting after spending so much uninterrupted, uncontested time together. The hospital wing was like a sort of protective bubble, where all the concerns outside couldn’t reach them. Leaving made everything that was going on more real somehow.

When Harry finally got to his room, cursing the fact that it was at the top of a tower that only began on the seventh floor of the castle, he dropped down on his bed. The house-elves collected laundry and changed the sheets on Sundays, so everything was the same as he’d left it.

 _The last time I felt these sheets was with Cedric,_ Harry thought, running his hand over them. It didn’t feel possible.

His hand came across something woolen and green. Cedric’s sweater was still lying out on the bed. Harry brought it up to his face and sniffed. Even after two days it smelled of Cedric. The smell, and the memories it brought to mind, made Harry’s stomach flip-flop. Finding the sweater gave him an idea. If he brought it back to Cedric, it would be the perfect excuse to see him without seeming too desperate. At least he hoped so, because in truth he was pretty desperate.

Going back down the stairs of Gryffindor Tower was much easier, and quicker, than going up them. Harry crossed the common room and pushed open the doorway. Standing on the other side was Cedric, looking surprised and a little embarrassed.

“Oh!” he said. “Um, hi.”

“Hi,” Harry said back.

“I was, uh, coming to get my sweater,” Cedric told him. Harry lifted it up in his left hand. “Oh! Ha. Good. Thanks.”

“Welcome,” said Harry, handing it over. He hesitated before asking, “Soo, you hungry?”

“Starved,” Cedric responded without delay. “Wanna sneak into the kitchens and grab something to eat?”

They stared at each other, each grinning goofily over their own lack of stealth.

“Oy, who let the two of you out?” a voice called.

Coming toward them from the stairs were Ron and Hermione. They looked very pleased to see the boys up and about.

“We were discharged half an hour ago,” Cedric answered.

“What are you doing out here?” Hermione chided. “You should be resting!”

“I forgot my sweater in Harry’s room,” Cedric said lamely, holding up the article of clothing.

“And I was going to bring it to him,” said Harry, just as pathetically. “We were about to go to the kitchens for something to eat.”

“Oh, good, so you’re **_both_** stupid,” Hermione noted.

“C’mon, Hermione,” Ron said. “A man’s got to eat. Especially one who’s been through as much as they have.”

“All right,” Hermione sighed, defeated. “But you’re not going all the way down to the kitchens. Go to the Room of Requirement, Ron and I will bring the food to you.”

“I don’t remember volunteering for that,” Ron remarked.

“That’s because you didn’t,” said Hermione. “Anything in particular?”

“Something spicy,” Cedric requested.

“And something sweet!” Harry insisted.

“Bluhh, so long as you don’t mix them together,” Ron said, making a disgusted face.

The boys walked down the seventh floor corridor to the familiar tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his ballet-hating trolls. They did the usual Room of Requirement dance of pacing three times before the blank wall, requesting a nice place to enjoy their quiet meal. What they found on the other side of the door that materialized was something far grander. It was a small-scale version of the Great Hall, complete with enchanted ceiling, hangings for Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, and a single table set for four.

“I guess the Room thought if we didn’t want to go to the Great Hall, it’d bring the Great Hall to us,” Cedric grinned.

They sat at the table and waited for the others to arrive. Waiting turned into making out. It was inevitable, really. They’d spent almost forty-eight hours together under Madam Pomfrey’s watchful eye, unable to do much more than hold hands. The urge to touch, to kiss, after being prevented for so long, was undeniable. Of course, this led to them being interrupted rather abruptly, and awkwardly, by the arrival of Ron and Hermione. They all quickly moved past it and sat down to eat. Hermione was full from dinner, but Ron, as he himself put it, could always eat.

“Mum asked Dumbledore if you could come straight to our house this summer, but he said no,” Ron said through a mouthful. “He wants you to go back to the Dursleys, at least for a while.”

“What?” Harry said. “Why?”

“You know, she didn’t actually tell me,” replied Ron, who clearly hadn’t thought to ask. “Only said he’s got his reasons. Guess we’ll have to trust him, eh?”

“He hasn’t let us down before,” Harry reasoned. He glanced at Cedric and said, quietly, “I suppose any hope I had of visiting you is out the window.”

“Probably,” Cedric muttered, poking the food around on his plate.

“You’re not that far from me, though,” Ron pointed out. “And Harry’ll be able to stay eventually. You can come over as often as you like. Hell, you can probably stay at my place. The more the merrier, that’s always been the Weasley family motto. Hermione can come too. All four of us, all together. It’ll be great.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, taking Cedric hand on the table. “That would be great.”

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


That became their regular routine in the final days of the school year, the four of them together. Ron and Hermione were the only people who didn’t look at Harry and Cedric like they were freaks, or gawk at their matching scars, or shy away when the boys passed them in the hall. Harry was used to this behavior from his classmates, but it was clear Cedric was not.

“People keep staring and whispering behind their hands,” Cedric told Harry as they walked together between classes. “It’s like they think I’m –”

“Me?” Harry broke in.

“I was going to say ‘dangerous’,” Cedric insisted.

“Same difference,” Harry countered. “Everyone thinks I’m a menace because of Rita Skeeter and that article she wrote about me complaining that my scar hurt. And now you’ve got one too.”

“But my scar doesn’t hurt!” Cedric said, frustrated. “Unless you count what a pain in the neck it’s become to have people staring at me all the time.”

“People always stared at you before,” Harry pointed out.

“Not like this,” Cedric muttered.

 _Like you’re a freak, you mean?_ Harry thought to himself.

He wondered if all Cedric was upset about was the attention from his new scar. He doubted it. The events that took place on the night of the last task had overshadowed their intent, and desire, to come out overtly, but it hadn’t prevented them from coming out altogether.

Rather than being a grand announcement, it was more of a subtle, unspoken statement. They spent every spare moment in each other’s company, and made no effort to conceal it. They weren’t making out in the corridors or anything, more because they didn’t feel comfortable doing that in public than for fear of persecution. But they would touch each other affectionately, and occasionally hold hands. After walking him up to Divination on Monday afternoon, Cedric was even so bold as to kiss Harry on the cheek when saying goodbye. By dinnertime on Monday night, most of Hogwarts had gotten the message: the Hogwarts champions were dating.

For the most part, neither of them cared. No one was saying anything to them directly about it, at least not yet. And, as far as Harry was concerned, so what if they did? He’d heard worse in the course of his four years at Hogwarts.

Cedric was a different case. He’d always been respected and admired by faculty and students alike. Now his own dorm mates were barely holding eye contact with him, a fact that Cedric mentioned Wednesday afternoon in a manner he probably thought to be nonchalant but ended up sounding dejected. First his parents, and now this; Cedric’s whole world was coming apart at the seams. At first Harry had been worried about him, but the older boy appeared to coping extremely, almost disturbingly, well. He was annoyed at the way people were treating him, maybe even a little sad, but nowhere near as downtrodden as Harry might’ve expected someone in his situation.

“I knew I wouldn’t be winning any popularity contests coming out,” Cedric explained when Harry asked him about it Thursday after lunch. “But I’m tired of being afraid. I’d rather people know the real me than be friendly toward the fake me. It’s better this way.” He grinned as he added, “If I wasn’t ready to take risks like this, I wouldn’t be in this relationship, right?”

“Fair enough,” said Harry. “Hey, you don’t have anything this afternoon, do you?”

“No, why?”

“We don’t have Defense anymore, since there’s no one to teach it, so we were going to go visit Hagrid,” Harry told him. “Do you want to come with us? He hasn’t really met you yet.”

“Of course he has,” Cedric contradicted. “I have him for Care of Magical Creatures.”

“No, I mean as my boyfriend, not as a student,” Harry elaborated.

“Er, I don’t know, Harry,” Cedric said hesitantly. “You and Hagrid are rather close. Don’t you think that might be awkward?”

“I know we’re close,” Harry said. “That’s why I want him to get to know you better.”

It took some more wheedling, but eventually Harry convinced Cedric to join them. Neither Ron nor Hermione argued with Harry’s decision to include him. However, Ron did appear confused, and seemed like he was going to ask about it until Hermione elbowed him. Then he was mostly concerned about the pain in his left arm. Cedric looked tense, gnawing at his bottom lip the entire way to Hagrid’s cabin. He didn’t seem as tense as when he met Sirius, though, and Harry was glad for that.

Hagrid came out to greet the quartet as they approached the cabin. He gave Harry a one-armed hug and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Good ter see yeh, mate,” he said jovially. “Good to see yeh.” He turned to the others and smiled. “Ron, Hermione, er –” He froze awkwardly when he saw the latest addition to their party. “Hullo, er, Cedric.”

“Hello, Professor,” Cedric replied, turning a very dark pink.

They entered the cabin, Cedric lingering toward the back of their group. There were two Hagrid-sized cups on the table.

“Bin havin’ a, uh, a cuppa with Olympe,” Hagrid told them. “Tha’s Madame Maxime ter you lot, o’course. Two of us were havin’ a bit of a chat.”

“Did it have anything to do with what Dumbledore sent McGonagall to fetch you for last week?” Cedric ask curiously.

Hagrid eyed him warily.

“Not so sure I should be telling yeh that,” he replied.

“Hagrid, Cedric was there that night, same as me,” Harry reminded him, becoming cross at the sight of Cedric blushing from Hagrid’s rebuff. “And not only that,” Harry continued, before his nerves could stop him, “he’s my boyfriend. So anything you can say to us, you can say to him.”

Hagrid gaped for a second, then stared down at his hands, which were fidgeting.

“O’course,” he said remorsefully. “Sorry. I’m jus’ not used ter – well, anyway. Yea, Dumbledore has a job fer me over th’ summer. Secret, though, so I can’t say more ‘bout it. Ter any of yeh, hones’ly.” He cleared his throat and looked at Harry. “I want yeh ter know, Harry, I’m proud’ve yeh. Yer a good kid, always have been. And tha’s not gonna change.”

“Thanks, Hagrid,” Harry smiled. “That means a lot.”

“Righ’, now, who wants tea?” Hagrid asked warmly.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


The bulk of Harry’s Friday was spent avoiding packing. He kept meaning to, but then would get distracted. Like when he was about to put Wizardry and Homosexuality in his trunk and was suddenly compelled to find a specific passage in it, the one about Aidan Lynch and his boyfriend. This led to Harry rereading a third of the book. It wasn’t until Hermione came up to check on his progress before the Leaving Feast that anything got done.

“I swear,” Hermione nagged as she crammed Harry’s magically-folded shirts into his trunk, “you’d never get anything done if it wasn’t for me.”

“Ohh, you enjoy it,” Harry accused. “You love it when I do stuff like this, it makes you feel useful.”

Hermione scowled but didn’t deny it. Ron entered the room carrying a stack of Chocolate Frog cards. He took in Harry standing over Hermione, who was sitting on the floor surrounded by Harry’s possessions, and grinned.

“You didn’t pack, did you?”

“Shut up,” Harry responded.

“Did you?” Hermione challenged.

“Yes,” Ron said evenly. “You can check my trunk if you’d like.”

“Don’t think I won’t,” she warned him.

“I didn’t do it neatly or anything,” Ron admitted hastily, ears going pink.

He went to his trunk and began rearranging its contents. Harry came over and sat at the foot of Ron’s bed. He peered at the inside of the other boy’s trunk.

“Did you even **_try_** to be organized while you packed this?” Harry asked.

“At least Hermione doesn’t have to pack for me,” Ron shot back.

“Yeah, not yet, you mean,” Harry chuckled. He turned somber as he said, “I really don’t want to go home.”

“You say that every year,” Ron observed.

“And every year I mean it,” Harry insisted. “Only this year… It’s different this year.”

He looked over at the window. The sun was just beginning to set, casting a golden orange light over the castle and grounds. Harry sighed. Voldemort was out there somewhere. He always knew it was a possibility, that the Dark wizard was looming somewhere in some crippled form. But it was real now. He was real, flesh and blood and bone, a real threat for the first time since Harry was a baby. Sure, he’d faced Voldemort-in-Quirrell’s-turban and Voldemort-in-the-diary, but Voldemort-the-man, the true Lord Voldemort, that was another thing altogether. Crouch was right, Harry had been lucky to escape. What if Voldemort chose to come after him during the summer?

“Dumbledore wouldn’t let you go home if it wasn’t safe, Harry,” Hermione said quietly.

Harry glanced over at her. She’d stopped mid-fold and was staring at him. He could tell that she, too, was scared, but at the same time seemed convinced that what she was saying was true. Ron nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I guess you’re right.”

“It’s gonna be all right,” Ron said, patting Harry on the arm. “You’ve got us, and Cedric, and Dumbledore, and loads of people on your side. All he’s got is a handful of Death Eaters.” Ron smirked. “No contest.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, smiling weakly.

“Harry, is your cauldron clean?” Hermione asked.

Harry and Ron looked at each other.

“Is that some kind of euphemism?” Ron wondered.

“Yes, it’s clean,” Harry told her. “Why?”

“I want to put your underwear in it,” she said.

“I don’t think Cedric would be too thrilled about you handling his boyfriend’s underwear,” Ron advised her.

“Well then next time he can pack Harry up himself,” Hermione replied, turning back to her work.

In less than an hour his trunk ready to be shipped back to Privet Drive.

 _That makes one of us,_ Harry thought glumly as he followed his friends downstairs.

He was extremely nervous about attending the Leaving Feast. Since his release from the hospital wing Harry had only braved the Great Hall a few times, and never when it was so crowded. It was Cedric who declared that they should go. He’d pointed out that they wouldn’t be able to avoid it forever, that eventually they’d need to go back to eating at their own tables with their own houses, and prolonging the inevitable wouldn’t make it any easier on them.

So Harry sat with his fellow Gryffindors. His compliance did not, however, mean he didn’t spend the entire meal staring across the hall at Cedric. The older boy was surrounded by people, but not many of them were speaking to him. No one was really speaking to Harry either, so he could relate. And matters weren’t made any better when Dumbledore stood up and made a speech about Voldemort’s return, referring directly to both Cedric and Harry as witnesses to the event. He also cited the scar on Cedric’s neck as evidence of surviving the same curse Harry had when he was a baby. If everyone wasn’t staring at them out of the corner of their eye before, they were certainly staring directly at them now.

The meal dragged on for a while after that, the entire hall abuzz with Dumbledore’s revelations. Harry didn’t blame the headmaster for his announcement. He knew that the truth had to be told; he only wished it didn’t have anything to do with him. All the attention that was being drawn to him nearly made Harry glad that he was leaving in the morning, even with Voldemort on the loose.

Halfway through dessert, Harry decided to duck out early, not wanting to be caught in the huge crowd exiting all at once. He’d just reached the top of the marble staircase when someone came up behind him.

“Going somewhere, Potter?”

He turned to find Cedric coming up the stairs. The Hufflepuff looked about as weary as Harry felt.

“Couldn’t take sitting in there anymore,” Harry admitted.

“I know what you mean,” Cedric said, nodding. “If only there were some secret place in the castle we could go where no one would be able to find us.”

“If only,” Harry mused, slipping his hand into Cedric’s when the older boy reached him.

They smiled at each other, and headed up to their secret place on the seventh floor. There they spent the rest of their last night free from the scrutiny of their schoolmates, together and blissfully alone.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


The next morning came all too quickly, and before Harry knew it he was sitting on the front stairs of Hogwarts with Cedric, Ron, and Hermione, waiting to be taken to Hogsmeade Station for the long journey home. In light of Dumbledore’s speech the night before, the rest of the Hogwarts students were giving them a rather wide perimeter. Not that Harry minded. At least they weren’t harassing him. And any social climate at Hogwarts was better than what he was returning to at Number 4 Privet Drive. The thought that he’d be back there soon made Harry scoot a bit closer to his boyfriend.

“What do you think is taking the carriages so long?” Hermione wondered.

“Probably giving us more time so we can say goodbye to the foreign students,” Cedric guessed.

“Or else You-Know-Who’s attacked the Hogwarts Express,” Ron offered.

“Not funny,” said Harry, Cedric, and Hermione simultaneously.

“Sorry,” Ron muttered. “Change of subject: what did you guys do with the Triwizard winnings?”

“Fifty-fifty split,” Cedric told him.

“Only because **_you_** refused to take all of it,” Harry added.

“Fair is fair,” Cedric argued. “Anyway, that’s way too much. What am **_I_** going to do with a thousand Galleons?”

“What **_couldn’t_** you do with a thousand Galleons?” Ron grumbled.

Harry looked away, out over the lawns, fiddling with his recently-reset silver Snitch through his shirt. He didn’t like thinking about his share of the gold from the Triwizard Tournament. It felt tainted after everything that’d happened. He considered asking Hermione if there were any worth-while charities to donate the money to. Harry certainly didn’t need it for himself.

Their group’s isolation was broken by Fleur Delacour, who had come to say a quick goodbye before the Beauxbatons carriage took off. The boys all hastily stood and brushed the dirt off their pants.

“Eet ‘az been such a pleasure meeting all of you,” she told them.

“The pleasure’s more than mutual,” Ron informed her.

It was at this point that Hermione, who had not risen, gave the back of his shirt a very sharp tug, causing him to fall back down on his ass.

“Safe journey home, Fleur,” Cedric wished her.

“And ze best of luck to you both,” the French girl cooed. “I ‘ope to see you again.”

She kissed the both of them on each cheek. Harry felt his face grow hot. He hoped Cedric didn’t notice, and glanced over to find the older boy blushing as well. They watched as Fleur flounced away.

“Still think she has no effect on you?” Harry challenged.

“Don’t push it, Potter,” Cedric huffed.

They were about to sit back down when Viktor Krum came up as well. He had visited the boys in the hospital wing, apologizing for what he did the night of the Third Task. No matter how much they tried to absolve him of blame he couldn’t seem to get past what he’d done. He approached Hermione.

“Could I have a vord?” he asked.

“Oh,” she said, appearing a little uncomfortable. “Right. Okay.”

She got up and moved out of earshot to speak with him. Ron stared at them, eyes narrowed, the entire time they were gone. Harry and Cedric did impressions of Ron’s expression for each other behind his back and attempted not to laugh. Hermione and Krum were back rather fast. Whatever they discussed could not be discerned from Hermione’s blank expression. Krum turned to Harry and Cedric next, looking guilt-ridden.

“I vant to apologize again,” he said gruffly. “For deh maze. I should haff been more difficult - ah, no. That is not correct. Strong. Should haff been more strong. That I have attacked you…”

“You haven’t done anything, Viktor,” Cedric assured him. “You’re a good man. Don’t let some lunatic Death Eater take that away from you.”

Ever the Hufflepuff, Cedric extended his right hand. Krum shook it, taking Cedric’s wrist with his left hand.

“You are good man also, Diggory,” Krum said admirably. “And you, Potter.” He turned to Harry, and shook his hand as well. “Watever comes next for you both, you vill always haff my respect,” said Krum. “No matter vat you are, or who you love.” He sighed, in a wistful, un-Krum-like manner. “Deh heart vants vat it vants. Love - it is truly powerful, and dere is no fighting someting like it.”

On that ominous note, he departed with a wave, and a final glance at Hermione.

Moments later, the horseless carriages arrived. The four friends clambered into one together. Harry stared out the window, growing sad as he watched the castle become smaller the farther they moved away from it. Seeming to guess what Harry was thinking, Cedric reached over and tugged gently at Harry’s chin, urging his face away from the window. Harry smiled, glad that he had someone who knew him well enough to keep him from becoming too despondent.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


The four friends quickly found a compartment for themselves on the Hogwarts Express and settled in. With little else to do on the long train ride, they talked. They'd already exhausted the topic of Voldemort over their last week at school. So instead their conversation stayed on lighter topics, things like which Bertie Bott's flavor they liked most, who was the best pro-Quidditch player (for the boys), or which pro-Quidditch player had the best ass (for Harry, Cedric and Hermione).

Things took a more serious turn when Hermione took out a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , and the subject turned to Rita Skeeter. It was then that the cleverest witch in her year revealed how she discovered the nosy reporter's secret. Although Ron and Cedric recalled hearing Hermione's hand slam down on the windowsill in hospital wing, Harry couldn't believe that she'd captured Rita until Hermione pulled the jar out of her bag. Once she explained the arrangement she'd made, essentially blackmailing the woman into silence, Hermione put it away again, looking very pleased with herself.

“Wow,” Cedric said, astonished. “I don’t know who’s more brilliant: Her for coming up with the idea, or you for catching her.” Then, on second thought, he amended, “No. No, wait, never mind, you’re definitely more brilliant.”

“Thank you,” Hermione beamed. “It’s half thanks to Ron. He gave me the idea. When he made his joke about her turning into a house-elf, I realized that, well, clearly that’s not what she was turning into, but it had to’ve been something.”

“Hey, whaddaya know?” said Ron. “I’m brilliant, too.”

The compartment door slammed open with a bang.

“Brilliant?” scoffed Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. “You? The only thing bright about you, Weasley, is the color of your hair. And even **_it’s_** smarter than you.”

Malfoy’s flunkies laughed. Cedric, however, looked confusedly at Harry.

“Is he serious?” he asked, in a whisper loud enough for Malfoy to hear. “Does he really think that that’s funny?”

The Slytherin boy glared.

“Now, now, Diggory,” he gritted out. “One would think, in light of recent developments, you’d know better than to be so disrespectful.” He smirked. “Or are you all trying to pretend it hasn’t happened?”

“Get out, Malfoy,” Harry said flatly.

“I warned you, Potter,” Malfoy said. “You remember? Our first day at Hogwarts. I warned you about consorting with the likes of them.”

“You remember your first day with Harry?” Cedric said, in what was clearly feigned awe. “That’s so sweet. I’ve gotta tell you, Draco, I’m starting to worry that I might have a competitor for Harry’s affections.”

“How dare you!” Malfoy snarled.

His wand was drawn in an instant. Harry withdrew his as well, but Cedric place a hand on his arm and lowered it back down. Cedric, for his part, remained seated, surveying their intruder. His posture was completely calm despite the tense situation.

“I think it would be best,” Cedric said evenly, “if you left now. Before you do something you regret.”

“You can be as flippant as you want,” Malfoy replied. “But there’s no denying the truth: the Dark Lord is back. And soon the scum of the wizarding world will be purged. First the Mudbloods, then the Muggle-lovers. And then, Diggory, it’ll be filthy wand-biters like y-”

A series of sudden flashes of light and loud bangs caused Harry to flinch. When he looked up again he saw Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle in a heap on the floor, with Fred and George Weasley standing over them.

“I’m getting tired of hearing that phrase,” said Fred, glowering down at the trio of Slytherins.

“We saw those three heading in your direction looking rather determined,” George explained. “Figured they were up to no good.”

“You didn’t have to jinx them,” Cedric said irritably.

“No, we didn’t,” George agreed, “but that’s half the fun. Now let’s get this lot out of here. They’re really starting to stink up the place.”

He, Ron, and Cedric dragged them out into the corridor, and then went back into the compartment like nothing had happened, shutting the door behind them.

“Thanks for sticking up for us, guys,” Harry said as they all settled in.

“Us queers’ve gotta stick together, right?” Fred winked.

“What do you mean ‘us queers’?” Ron asked.

Fred froze, realizing what he’d just said, and who he’d said it in front of.

“Well, little brother,” he said. “I’m, er… I’m queer, too.”

The other four people in the compartment simultaneously held their breath as they all waited for Ron’s response to this declaration.

“Well,” Ron said after a minute, “six Weasley brothers, I can’t say I’m surprised one of us turned out to be. I always figured it’d be Charlie.”

“Personally, I don’t think Charlie’s anything,” George theorized. “He loves dragons too much to be bothered with sex.”

“How anyone could not be bothered with sex is beyond my comprehension,” Harry said, shaking his head.

“Well, we aren’t all dating the Hufflepuff Hottie,” Fred taunted.

They all laughed, except Cedric, who made a face and buried his head in his hands. Harry placed a comforting arm around his boyfriend, still laughing.

“Exploding Snap, anyone?” Fred asked jovially, brandishing a pack of cards.

The rest of the train ride was filled with fun, light conversation and lots of laughter. Except for the portion Fred and George spent revealing their nasty experience with Ludo Bagman. Their friends were horrified to learn that the Ministry official swindled a pair of students out of their savings. Harry couldn’t believe the injustice. The twins struggled so hard to save and ended up losing it all, while Harry, who was heavily provided for, had five hundred Galleons practically fall into his lap. Five hundred Galleons that he neither needed nor wanted.

Five hundred Galleons, Harry realized, that he was looking to get rid of.

Having decided on a course of action, Harry settled back in Cedric’s arms, enjoying the feeling while he could.

  


O       O       O       O       O       O       O

  


As the Hogwarts Express pulled into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, the six teens prepared to disembark. While Cedric, Ron, and Hermione cleared out of their compartment, Harry called for the twins to wait for a moment. He pulled his half of the winnings out of his trunk and held it out for them.

“What’s this?” Fred asked.

“My Triwizard money,” Harry replied. “Take it.”

“You’re joking,” George scoffed.

“I’m really not,” Harry verified. “You can use it better than I can. Take it. Use it for the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.”

“Harry, we couldn’t,” Fred insisted.

“Look,” Harry said persistently, “I don’t need the money. And, to be honest, I really don’t want it. What I’d like is to do something good with it. And this is something good. Will you please just take it?” Before they could protest again, Harry continued, “If you don’t take it I’ll be forced to hex you. Please don’t ruin my charitable gesture by making me use my wand on you.”

“Ooh, using your wand on me doesn’t sound like much of a threat, Potter,” Fred teased. Then, more seriously, he asked, “You’re really sure?”

“You said it yourself, us queers’ve gotta stick together,” Harry said. “And more than that, we’re practically family. Er, speaking of which, don’t tell your mum I gave it to you. I’m happy to do it but I kind of prefer her liking me.”

“I think that’s a fair condition,” George replied, finally accepting the bag of Galleons. “Thank you, Harry.”

“Please, don’t thank me,” Harry insisted. “Ooh, one more favor though: buy Ron a decent pair of dress robes? Say they’re from you?”

“That’d be doing us all a favor,” Fred laughed.

They shuffled out of the train compartment together, climbing over the unconscious Slytherin students that were still lying outside it. Cedric was waiting right beside the door. He nodded at the twins as they passed, then smiled at Harry.

“I heard what you did,” Cedric said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry quipped.

“Yeah, yeah,” replied Cedric.

Rather than press the subject further, Cedric helped Harry with his trunk. The boys disembarked from the Hogwarts Express and made their way through the magical barrier to King’s Cross Station. Friends and family were all waiting there to greet the returning students, including Mrs. Weasley and Uncle Vernon. Standing a distance away from them was Cedric’s father. He did not look pleased. In fact, he looked almost as sour as Uncle Vernon as watched his son and his son’s boyfriend approach. Harry automatically veered toward the Weasleys for a last goodbye, and Cedric followed. Harry couldn’t help wondering if it was for the same reason or simply to put off meeting his father as long as he could.

“Oh, you boys,” Mrs. Weasley said, hugging them both warmly. “Take care of yourselves. Hopefully you’ll be able to come see us this summer, the both of you.”

“Hopefully,” Harry echoed.

“Mrs. Weasley, would you mind watching our things for a moment?” Cedric asked. “I’d like to say goodbye to Harry in private.”

“Oh, of course, dear!” Mrs. Weasley replied. “You two take as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” said Cedric.

And with that he took Harry by the elbow and led him to a nearby men’s room. It was dimly lit, as only one of the fluorescent bulbs overhead was working. Harry could only just make out the colors of the tile floor; black, white, and pale green. He leaned against one of the sinks, hoping he’d at least appear casual, despite how upset he was.

“So this is it,” Harry observed awkwardly.

“S’pose so,” Cedric remarked. He cracked a smile. “You know, when I started this year, I didn’t think I’d even get a chance to speak to you, let alone that I’d finish it by saying goodbye to you in a men’s washroom”

“Really?” said Harry, with a grin of his own. “I always pictured the year ending this way.”

They laughed at the absurdity of Harry’s statement. There wasn’t a lot of mirth behind their laughter, though. They both knew they were only stalling the inevitable goodbye.

“It is a bit fitting, though, isn’t it?” Harry opined. “After all the time we spent in the prefects’ bathroom. It’s like being there again.”

“Only gross,” Cedric noted, looking around the dingy men’s room.

“At least it doesn’t smell,” Harry pointed out. “And it could be worse, considering everything we’ve been through this year.”

“Yeah,” said Cedric solemnly. “This feels like it’s been the longest year of my life. Does it feel that way for you too?”

“No, it’s basically been a typical year for me,” Harry answered honestly. “Except for all the sex. So actually a bit better than usual.”

“Ha, ha,” Cedric said sarcastically.

“What? It’s true,” said Harry. “I’m not gonna lie, I had hoped I might get my first kiss. Who doesn’t? But I never thought I’d leave Hogwarts this year without my virginity intact. And I definitely didn’t think I’d end the school year in love. At least not in any way that was requited.”

“I know,” Cedric agreed. “I never thought... Well, there’s a lot of things I never thought before you, Harry.” He smiled, then enveloped Harry in his arms. “Thank you. I feel like I owe my life to you, in more ways than one.”

“The feeling is mutual, Cedric.”

The older boy held Harry close, an embrace that Harry wholeheartedly returned.

As girly and irrational as it made him feel, Harry hated the thought of letting Cedric go. Though their situation at Hogwarts for the seven months or so that they were together may not have been perfect, operating under a constant veil of secrecy, at least Harry could always depend on the fact that Cedric wasn’t far. The castle wasn’t so big that Harry couldn’t find Cedric if he wanted to. But now he was going to be miles and miles away for nearly two months. And with Voldemort's unexpected return looming over them, Harry was reminded of the feeling he got the night of the final task, that feeling that they would never see each other again. Saying goodbye would've been a difficult enough situation without there being a real threat out there.

“Promise me you’ll visit?” Harry said into Cedric’s chest.

“You know I do,” Cedric replied.

“Soon?” asked Harry. “Like, coming by later today wouldn’t be pushing it.”

Cedric laughed.

“Maybe not for you,” he said. “I probably can’t swing today. But I can write you this evening. And then we’ll go from there. Believe me, I’ll be beating down your door by the end of the week.”

“I bet that’s not all you’ll be beating by the end of the week,” Harry said, pressing against Cedric provocatively.

“Do not get me horny when I’m about to go off with my father,” Cedric scolded. He removed himself from Harry’s advances and adjusted his package slightly. “It’s untoward.”

 “Yeah, you’re right,” Harry relented. “I’d rather not be stuck in the car with Uncle Vernon sporting a hard-on myself.”

“So I’ll send you a letter with Bowman tonight,” Cedric confirmed.

“Wish you had a phone,” Harry grumbled. “That way I could at least hear your voice.”

“I know,” said Cedric. “But it won’t be long before you’re seeing my handsome face again.”

“Something to look forward to,” Harry said, smiling.

“Okay,” Cedric said with an air of finality. “We probably shouldn’t linger in the men’s room much longer.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Your dad will get the wrong impression.”

“Or the right one,” Cedric scoffed.

“Yeah.”

Harry pulled Cedric close and kissed him, a lot, and didn’t stop until he was good and ready to do so.

“I love you so much, Harry Potter,” Cedric murmured.

“Love you back, Cedric Diggory,” Harry said softly.

After one final kiss, they exited the King’s Cross men’s room.

They said the rest of their goodbyes, receiving a hug from Ron and kiss on the cheek from Hermione each. They got pulled into another hug from Mrs. Weasley as well. Then, with a final, meaningful look at each other, the two Hogwarts champions parted ways, sad to be leaving, but happy to have found each other.

  


  


**EPILOGUE**

  


One afternoon, while he was looking through Wizardry and Homosexuality, Harry had come across a picture of a gay pride parade. The entire picture was in black and white, except for the rainbow flag that two of the men in front were holding. Harry knew from his reading that the rainbow was an oft used symbol for gay pride. He’d thought it fitting for him, considering his love of colors.

However, that particular image got Harry to thinking.

When Harry considered what color he associated most with his coming out, it wasn’t any of those normally found in most rainbows. In fact, it wasn’t even a color that Harry ever enjoyed until recently.

It was gray.

Gray like the dark wool of his Christmas sweater. Gray like the sparkling silver of his Snitch necklace. Gray like the irises of his loving boyfriend.

It was a lack of color that Harry associated with his coming out, and with finding the boy that he loved, who made him feel complete.

Harry reflected on this for a moment longer. Then he turned the page and continued his book.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for Part 1!  
> For the record, Cedric was supposed to die. He was going to die, and Harry was going to hate the color green because of the Killing Curse's glow, and then long for the gray of Cedric's eyes, which was the lack of color referenced in the title. And that would've been the end of it. Somewhere along the line, things changed, and I'm very glad they did.  
> My thanks go out to all the friends who helped and beta'd this series for me, including Nikki, Kate, Tori, D'Arcy, and my husband Nico. I especially couldn't've finished the last two there. But most of all I want to thank my faithful readers who have stuck by this series over the years.  
> And once again, if you like what you're reading, I'm writing a book! Follow me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/misterkevo) and [Tumblr](http://misterkevo.tumblr.com) for updates!  
> Part 2, "Sound of the Revolution," is already in progress, so read on! And thank you for coming along this far. -kevo


End file.
